


After the Bombs Subside

by GrimLight



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Long, M/M, Novel, Poe Dameron Is A Mess, Poe Dameron Needs A Hug, Post-Canon, Post-Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Stormpilot, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:22:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 107,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22826332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrimLight/pseuds/GrimLight
Summary: It's seven months after the battle of Exegol ended the war between the Resistance and the First Order. Rey is studying the Jedi texts, and is about to take Finn to Ahch-To to help her study and begin to explore his own Force sensitivity. Poe is still leading the Resistance as they set up a new, more permanent base on the planet Ryloth and begin the hard work of turning their movement into a legitimate government. The trouble is, Poe has never been good at delegating responsibility, and his friends are fearing he's taking on too much. What he really needs is a break.This is going to be a long one, but the events will eventually cover our trio going to Ahch-To, BB-8 getting to know some porgs, and our favorite pilot and ex-stormtrooper finding love (and eventually...some smut). Settle in.
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Finn
Comments: 152
Kudos: 152





	1. Chapter I

**Author's Note:**

> Contains references to events covered in these official Star Wars works, though you don't need to have read them to understand what's happening:
> 
> Resistance Reborn (novel between The Last Jedi and The Rise of Skywalker, highly recommended)  
> Before the Awakening (YA novel about Poe, Rey, and Finn before TFA)  
> Star Wars: Poe Dameron (graphic novel/comics series about Poe's time in the Resistance before The Force Awakens, excellent)  
> Poe Dameron: Free Fall (YA novel about Poe's time in the spice runners of Kajimi as an extremely in-over-his-head 16 year old...I loved it)

“Can I come with you?”

Poe Dameron hadn’t meant to just blurt it out like that. He hadn’t even really meant to ask at all. He had far too much on his plate to jet off into the unknown for a break, even if he desperately wanted one. He regretted it the instant the words were out of his mouth, but it was too late. Finn and Rey had already turned their heads to look at him, startled into silence. For a moment, the only sound was the humming of the  _ Millenium Falcon’s _ hyperdrive, and then both Rey and Poe were talking at once.

“I don’t see why not, but Finn will need to concentrate, and—

“Never mind, not sure what I was thinking, I don’t have time to—”

“Wait, wait,” Finn interrupted, hands out palm-forward. He and Rey had been talking over a game of Dejarik, and with their input paused, the holographic figures gestured menacingly at each other, one of the pawns clubbing another over the head before it could be dragged back into line by its fellow pieces. Poe, sitting on a nearby bench where he had been poring over his datapad, watched in some consternation. He was never quite sure how much sentience those transparent critters had.

“Poe, of course you can come, but why do you want to? Me and Rey are just gonna be...I don’t know, meditating? Making rocks float?” Finn glanced Rey’s way for confirmation, and the girl just smiled, her nose crinkling in an effort not to laugh. 

“No, it’s...you’re right, I don’t need to go. I’ve got too much to do already. The Resistance needs me, and...yeah, yeah, no, you two go ahead.” Poe knew he was babbling and forced himself to stop, shoving to his feet. Maybe he’d go check on Chewie, not that the Wookiee seemed to want or need any assistance as they made their way across the galaxy to Ryloth. The Twi’leks had tentatively agreed to host the Resistance base there as the war wound down and talks turned to establishing a new Republic. Poe had been looking over schematics for possibilities of where they might place said base, scrolling over maps and charts until his eyes felt rubbed raw.

He could see the concern on Rey’s face and confusion on Finn’s and he turned away toward the  _ Falcon’s _ cockpit, his voice deliberately light. “Got things to do, places to be. Just thought Ahch-To sounded...interesting.”

“It really isn’t,” Rey swiveled in her chair to watch him go, brows drawn together. Her feet hung a few inches off the ground, her seat clearly intended for someone taller and, to judge by the strands of fur clinging to the upholstery, hairier. “It’s a few rocks in the ocean, covered with porgs and alien nuns. Though I suppose we’re the aliens, to them. It’s just a quiet place where we can train. And I should tidy up after...after Master Luke.”

“Yep,” said Poe, hating how falsely cheerful he sounded. “I’m good, don’t worry about it. I’ve seen rocks and oceans. I’m just gonna…” He paused at the entry to the cockpit, jerking his thumb toward it as he glanced back at his friends. He flashed them a grin before ducking inside.

Rey and Finn shared a puzzled glance before turning back to their game. “So, how long before I get a lightsaber?” Finn asked, nudging forward his Grimtaash piece to stun Rey’s K'lor'slug. The spindly creature leapt on its centipede-like opponent, bashing its head into the board with its huge hands until it lay still. Rey tsked, and reached for her Kintan Strider to retaliate.

“You just found out you’re Force sensitive a few months ago. One thing at a time. I don’t need you putting any more holes in the Caretakers’ buildings than I already have.”

After they landed on Ryloth, it was difficult to even catch their breath. Rey and Finn did their best to handle some of the socializing and schmoozing for him, but Poe was besieged with questions from Resistance members on one hand and Twi’lek representatives on the other as they toured possible sites for their new base. Striding through an abandoned Imperial hangar from before the first galactic war, when Ryloth had been a captured colony of the Empire, Poe signed an acquisition form on a datapad thrust at him by a Resistance engineer he couldn’t even name, while attempting to listen as his Twi’lek guide talked him through what would need to be renovated to make the hangar useful again.

“General Dameron, if you could also just sign here…” the engineer, a plump young Bothan, had to jog to keep up as the Twi’lek, a constantly smiling woman named Shan’Jora, showed Poe through the banks of hydraulic lifts meant to allow mechanics to get under low-slung ships to make repairs. They were in sorry shape, Poe noted as he scrolled absently through the form, signing with a flick of his finger wherever he saw a line. He couldn’t remember what he was actually signing for, or when they’d started doing a formal acquisitions procedure, or why he had to be the one signing all the damn forms, but if he insisted on reading everything, he’d never get anything else done. 

“General, if you’ll just look over here, you can see the problem seems to be some cracked tubing. Get that squared away, and at least a few of these lifts should be good to go.” Shan’Jora was like this about everything, Poe had quickly realized: a born saleswoman, determined to place everything in the sunniest light possible. He paused with the datapad in hand, idly tapping it with his thumb while he scanned the lifts in question before grunting out a non-committal response. Those lifts would need a hell of a lot more than some tubing replacements and new fluid before they’d be doing any lifting.

“Let’s take a look at the next bay,” he finally said, then registered the Bothan engineer at his elbow trying to interrupt. “Hm? Yes, uh...Lieutenant Grandov?” Poe forced himself to focus on the man’s rank insignia and name badge, his eyes feeling scratchy. He’d barely had a full night’s sleep since well before their victory at Exegol, and that had been some seven months ago. It was more than starting to wear on him. 

“Uh...may I have my pad back, sir?”

“Yeah! Yeah, of course, sorry.” Poe gave the man a smile, feeling his face heat as he handed the device back to its owner. The Bothan scuttled off with a backward glance and a hasty salute, which Poe waved off, turning back to his guide. “Sorry, still not...totally used to that. All of that. Where were we?”

Rey was doing her own quiet assessment of the derelict hangar, at Poe’s request, and watched the whole exchange from under the bulk of a rusting TIE fighter that still bore blaster marks from the war with the Rebel Alliance. The ship was likely older than all of them present, but Rey thought some parts might still be salvageable, as long as they were there. She had been about to ask Poe if she should start stripping it, but decided she didn’t need to heap any more questions on his shoulders. She could take care of the scavenging herself. After all, that was what she was best at.

She did thumb her comm to life, though, speaking quietly into it. “Finn, when Poe gets back to the ship, see that he has a rest, will you? And something to eat.”

“Copy that,” came Finn’s cheerful voice. “Will tackle him if necessary.” Rey smiled, and caught the beginning of Finn chiding a group of young recruits before he clicked off. 

“Hey, guys, I think that might be too heavy for you to—”

Finn winced as the recruits scraped the massive crate they were trying to carry along the corner of the  _ Falcon’s  _ doorway. The metal surfaces met with a harsh shriek, the recruit struggling in the lead almost dropping it on his foot as he flinched. Finn ran over, ducking under the ship’s ramp to retrieve a flatbed dolly and haul it over as fast as possible. The breathless recruits set down their burden with relieved gasps, wincing and rubbing at their arms.

“A little lesson for you all,” he said as they straggled to attention, recognizing him as a General despite his unmarked, rather bedraggled flight jacket. “Don’t try to be a hero when we don’t even have anyone to fight right now. Plenty of time for that later.”

“Yes, sir!” snapped the most eager of the youngsters, giving an extravagant salute. Finn had to grin at the effort. He was a pockmarked young human, skinny in the way of some of these Outer Rim worlds kids they were getting these days tended to be. Years of First Order blockades had left them less nourished than they should be. 

“Can anyone tell me what’s in this?” he asked, rapping the lid of the crate with his knuckles. The recruits, another couple of humans and a Rodian, looked at each other and then shook their heads. Finn, smiling widely now, unlatched the lid and lifted out a small metal ball. The Rodian took in a sharp breath, and her compatriots turned to stare at her. Finn pointed a finger at her, eyebrows raised expectantly. 

“Corellian spark grenades, sir.”

“That’s right, Private…?”

“Darmo, sir. Vhe Darmo.” 

Finn hadn’t known that Rodians could blush, but sure enough, the girl’s green cheeks were turning a ruddy brown. He stifled his smile, trying to look more stern as he nodded. “Private Darmo. Very good. Yes, Corellian spark grenades. Which, if you dropped a crate of them, would go…?”

“...Boom, sir.” 

“Correct, Private Darmo.” Finn watched the color drain from all their faces as he replaced the lid with care. “You’ll notice all the big, orange stickers saying ‘Caution: Explosives.’ And the cartoon bomb.”

“Well, we sure will next time, sir,” piped up the smallest of the humans, a girl with coppery skin and a dimpled smile. Finn thought she looked young, even for their latest recruits. 

“Carry on, Resisters. Carefully.” Finn waved them along to where other recruits and officers were unloading supplies, into their temporary harbor outside the capital city of Lessu. It wasn’t much, just a modest sized hangar and a small warehouse, both run-down, but the Ryloth Defense Authority had provided it free of charge, and beggars couldn’t be choosers. It was enough for the core fleet of the Resistance, such as it was—a handful of fighters, a few freighters, and the  _ Falcon  _ were about it—but they would outgrow it quickly, at the rate they were being contacted by new volunteers.

If he was honest with himself, Finn enjoyed the deference he received from the raw recruits. It was nice not to be on the bottom of the heap, sure, but mostly it was nice to be respected. To be listened to, and taken seriously. Even his friends sometimes seemed to think he was a silly kid, passionate but too impulsive. Poe was older and more experienced, and Rey...well, Rey was maybe younger than him, he’d never actually asked, but her powers made her seem so much wiser. 

But to the new kids, he was a battle-hardened veteran, known in some circles throughout the galaxy. He was General Finn, the stormtrooper turned Resistance hero, who had personally taken out the navigation tower at the Battle of Exegol. And soon, he would be a Jedi.

Well, maybe not quite a Jedi. Rey hadn’t yet quite worked out what she wanted to do to carry on the Jedi legacy. Luke Skywalker had been adamant that it was time for the Jedi order to die. Rey had rescued the Jedi texts before he could burn them, but she was still studying them, and for the moment, the fate of the Jedi hung in the balance. That was part of why their next stop would be Ahch-To. Rey needed time and space to study and plan. Finn needed guidance after his realization that he was sensitive to the Force. And they both needed some time away from the chaos of turning the Resistance into a legitimate political power. 

Finn felt a pang of guilt as he jogged up the ramp into the  _ Falcon _ , scrolling over the to-do list on his datapad. If he and Rey were tired, then Poe, as the temporary leader of the Resistance, had to be about to drop. He certainly looked it, these days, and then there had been that odd moment earlier on the ship when he’d sounded desperate to come along. While they were criss-crossing the galaxy trying to raise funds and rally their allies, or weeding out pockets of First Order holdouts, Finn had kept an eye on his friend’s berth, noticing that the tiny cabin was always lit, no matter what hour. He wasn’t entirely sure when Poe was finding time to sleep.

He wished they could bring him along. But there was a critical shortfall of senior leaders left in the Resistance after first the destruction of the flagship  _ Raddus  _ and then the death of Leia Organa, and for now, Poe was pretty much it. He hadn’t even had time to fly in weeks, and Finn thought that was probably wearing on him worse than anything else he had to deal with. Maybe he could finagle some way to get Poe into his X-Wing within the next day or two, before he and Rey took off for Ahch-To. 

“Finn!” He looked up from his list in time to grin at Rose Tico before she barrelled into him for a hug. He slung his arm over her shoulders as she pulled back. She was dressed in her mechanics’ coverall, a swipe of engine grease on one dimpled cheek. Rose always made him smile, and it had been a couple of weeks since they had seen each other. 

“Hi, Rose. You and Chewie got the compressor problems sorted out yet?”

“Yep. Well, I think so. I’m not always totally sure what he’s saying, but Artoo seems confident.” The barrel-shaped astromech rolled by at that moment, moving from the cockpit toward the doorway. Finn gave him an absent pat on the head, to which he gave a friendly tootle, not slowing down as he turned to go down the ramp into the hangar.

“I don’t know how you understand droid-speak. Just a lot of beep-boop to me,” Finn confessed in a low voice, as soon as Artoo had passed. He heard a disapproving beep behind him and glanced back with chagrin to see BB-8 glaring at him, as well as a droid could glare with a lens instead of eyes. BB-8 in particular was quite good at it. Finn might not have been able to understand the series of beeps and whistles the little droid let out, but he got the indignant gist before BB-8 barreled past after R2-D2, bumping his leg along the way.

“Buddy, come on, I just...they’re good beeps!” he protested, as Rose laughed. Finn turned back to her, shaking his head with regret. “Well, now you’re gonna have to teach me.”

“Guess so,” was her cheerful reply. “You’re in trouble now. Hey, are you coming to that dinner thing tonight?”

“Yeah. You, me, Rey, Nien Nunb, and Connix. And Poe, of course. He wants us to look bigger than we are, you know? For all the Twi’lek bigwigs.” The state dinner with the Ryloth planetary leadership had been a cause of some anxiety within the fleet in the days before they’d landed. Formal clothes were in short supply, but they’d dredged up some old pieces of Leia’s from the  _ Falcon’s _ storage unit, then found officers that fit them. The princess turned general had been petite, but Rose, Rey, and Major Kaydel Ko Connix had fit the bill. For the men, they’d been able to borrow suits from Charth Brethen, son of their Ryloth Defense Authority host, Yendor. Nien Nunb was having to make do with his dress uniform, the venerable Sullustan pilot too short for anything else that was available. Nunb was reluctant, as he was more accustomed to X-Wing dogfights than diplomatic meetings, but Poe had been adamant that they include at least one non-human and one veteran of the old Rebel Alliance, and Nunb was both. 

“Have you ever been to something like this before? I’m kinda nervous,” Rose confessed. “I spend too much time around rich people and I get itchy.”

“I know, Rose. And...yeah, kind of. Borrowed clothes from the same guy, even,” Finn recalled the party and auction he and Poe and a few others had attended in disguise on Corellia the year before. “The food, now, that was great. But the party turned into a blaster fight pretty quick, so let’s hope this one goes a little more smoothly.”

“A blaster fight? Well, probably better than riding a fathier through the window, right?” 

Finn chuckled at the memory of their escape from Canto Bight. It had been fun to see all those suits and gowns scattering, bowling each other over in their haste to get away from the chaos, all elegance and grace forgotten. “Maybe a little less messy. But not much. Poe jumped in a fountain with the host, that time.”

“Got it, keep Poe away from bodies of water tonight.” Rose mimed making a check mark on an invisible list, then waved as she went to follow the droids outside the ship. “See you later, Finn.”

“Later!” Finn continued into the depths of the Falcon, to check on how close they were to emptying all the supplies they’d collected out of the hold and over to the warehouse. Six hours to go until he had to stop and get ready for the dinner, and by the sounds of scraping and banging in the hold, another group of new recruits was about to do something foolish. Who knew that defeating the First Order had been the easy part?

Who knew the hardest part of the war would be the meetings once it was over? 

After his tour of the old Imperial base, Poe had been called to give testimony at a Ryloth Defense Authority leadership meeting, along with representatives from the official planetary government. He had brought along Major Connix and C-3PO, ostensibly to have the protocol droid record the speakers and provide cultural context and the Major to be a second pair of eyes on reactions. In reality, he was hoping Connix could give him a nudge if she caught him falling asleep, and that C-3PO would annoy him enough to keep him awake in the first place. 

So far, the latter tactic was working.

“You will note, General Dameron, that the Twi’lek often use their lekku to augment their speech. This is a holdover from their own indigenous language, Twi’lek’i, which is partially verbal and partially visual. Indeed, Twi’lek’i contains almost as many distinct lekku signs as it does audible words!”

C-3PO thought he was being quiet and discreet. He was not particularly either. Poe noticed eyes and, yes, lekku, those tentacle-like appendages on Twi’lek heads, turning their way, and cleared his throat. “Thank you, Threepio, I think I understand what—”

“It is really quite fascinating, and one of the more difficult languages for my processors to parse, of the seven million forms of communication with which I am programmed. And unfortunately, one I cannot speak, as I do not have the appropriate physicality. I would be honored if one of our hosts would allow me to witness and translate their native language, as a test of my database. Perhaps I could even expand my base of knowledge!” 

Poe elbowed the gleaming golden droid and immediately regretted it when it resulted in a clang that made more Twi’lek faces turn in their direction. Even the current speaker at the podium stopped his droning about mineral rights. Poe’s elbow smarted, too, but at least C-3PO did stop talking. For a moment.

“I say, General Dameron, are you all right? You seem to have accidentally struck me! May I render assistance?”

“That won’t be necessary, Threepio.” Poe flashed the Twi’lek council an easy smile, leaning back in his chair as he gestured for them to carry on. “Sorry, folks, my arm slipped. Please, continue.”

The speaker paused a moment longer, glaring at Poe, before continuing. Poe smiled back apologetically, but that faded as soon as the man looked away. Poe scrubbed a hand down his face as he breathed out a carefully quiet sigh, then met Connix’s eye. She widened her eyes marginally and lifted her brows, a facial shrug, before turning away to jot down a few notes. Poe wondered if he should be taking notes too. That would, presumably, require him to actually be taking in what the speaker was saying. That was proving impossible. It was like the Twi’lek’s words were drops of oil, bouncing right off the water of his brain.

The endless list of tasks to do, waiting on his datapad, itched at him. It would be rude to take the pad out to start planning his next few days, but as long as the council was discussing nothing that concerned him, he couldn’t concentrate on anything but worrying about everything going undone while he was stuck here in some damn cave, listening to a bunch of strangers quibble over where to put their damn lithium mine, and how to split the damn proceeds. Strangers he needed to make believe in their cause enough to take the risk of letting them set up a long-term base here. 

Poe realized belatedly that the mining speaker had stepped down and the room was silent. When Connix kicked him subtly on the ankle, he realized they were all looking at him expectantly. He must have missed his own introduction. Great, making an excellent impression already. 

Not for the first time, not even for the first time that day, he wished with every fiber of his being that Leia was still with them. 

With as light a smile at Connix as he could summon up, he clambered to his feet and made his way to the podium. He wished he knew what his introduction had been, or who had given it. C-3PO would know, but if he asked the protocol droid, he’d have to prepare to be told at top volume and at great length. Might as well wing it. He was pretty good at that.

The average Twi’lek was taller than he was, so he bought a moment to collect himself by adjusting the microphone downward. Then he ran a hand over his curls to make sure they were behaving themselves, took a deep breath, and began. This speech, at least, was one he’d prepared.

“I’m honored to be here today, addressing the true defenders of Ryloth. Most of you have already met me, but for those who haven’t, I am General Poe Dameron, acting commander in chief of the Resistance forces.” Poe always felt a little foolish saying that, like he was a child about to be scolded for fibbing.  _ Shoulders back, head up, and use your outside voice, kid.  _ He could almost hear Leia’s voice in his head, and the thought made him smile slightly, relaxing as he went on.

“I’ll be blunt, and I won’t take up more of your time than is necessary. We all know why we’re here. The Resistance needs your help. We need a home. Ryloth already came to our aid once, when Yendor allowed us to take shelter with you after the Battle of Crait, when our forces were badly depleted.” He scanned the room, taking note of who was nodding, who looked less than convinced, and who was tuning him out. Only a couple of the latter, but he needed them all on his side if this was to be decisive. On the far end of the room in the chairman’s seat, Yendor gave him a subtle nod.

“I know that your generosity cost you. Yendor lost his daughter, Hahnee, to the First Order’s attack on the Resistance. In the blockade that followed, many Twi’leks suffered, and some died. But Ryloth never gave in. You kept your independence. Even the First Order couldn’t break your spirit.” Now there were a few more nods, a few more looks of approval. Connix was watching intently, while C-3PO, silent for once, recorded.

“I also know that some of you here today don’t want us here. You think we’re going to bring more violence down on you, from those who are still loyal to the First Order, or that whatever new government rises from the ashes of the Republic will try to put you under its thumb.” Poe paused a beat, watching as some of the holdouts’ attention was sharpened. One woman leaned forward, her fingers steepled together and her brow furrowed.

“I’m here today to tell you that if Ryloth is our partner in building this new galactic peace, we will always look out for her interests, first and foremost. I can promise you your freedom from interference. I can’t promise you freedom from danger, but I can swear that if Ryloth is attacked, the Resistance will answer. And we grow stronger every day.” His hand came down on the podium at that, for emphasis. 

“But we can’t get much stronger without a home. You want Ryloth to keep its independence, to be able to make its own destiny? Then let us start here. Let Ryloth be at the table from the very beginning. Not an afterthought, not really on the Outer Rim anymore. Right at the center of the galaxy. 

“And if you don’t let us? Well, we may be able to find somewhere else. Or we might not. We’re at a turning point here, my friends. The war is over, and sometimes, that means people start losing interest. They’ve got lives to get back to. Family, friends, nations, worlds.” His words sped up as his emotions began to get the better of him. Connix tilted her head to the side, eyebrows raising slightly, and he took a breath to compose himself.

“Right now we’re gaining recruits, yes, but we’re also losing veterans. We can’t hold onto our people if we can’t give them a  _ home.  _ Not a bunk in a ship, but a place where they can feel...safe. Secure. Where they can bring their families, and settle down for the long haul.” As he said it, he felt it, deep in his bones. He’d been with the Resistance for...how long was it now? Four years? Five? It felt like a lifetime. He’d been only a few years out of flight school and in the New Republic’s service when the fight had begun, and now he had more gray hairs than he cared to admit. Some of them rather premature, but still. It had been far too long since he’d had any sort of home outside of an X-Wing.

“And without the Resistance, and with it what remains of the New Republic, what happens to the rest of the galaxy? Chaos. Every world for itself. Or worse, the First Order manages to pull itself back together from the wreckage before we do.” He paused there, the heavy silence making his point for him before he moved on. Even the most skeptical of the Twi’lek present were unhappy at the idea of the First Order staging a return. 

“So this is a critical time. We need to find somewhere to put our heads before the fire goes out. I think Ryloth is the right place for it. I think you share our dedication to freedom, to respect for all species. You have a proud history of fighting for those ideals, even against terrible odds. I’m here to ask you to let us fight for them at your side.” He let his hands come to rest on the podium, looking from face to face, as he came to a close. A pause for a deep breath, and then he relaxed into a smile. 

“Any questions?”

There were, of course, many questions, most of them of the logistical variety. How long would the Resistance make its base on Ryloth? How could they guarantee they wouldn’t become an imperial force there? How many fighters and staff did they plan on bringing? When representatives from other world governments needed to come to negotiate alliances and an eventual new Republic, would Ryloth be responsible for their needs, for their safety? Poe was able to answer most off the top of his head, with Connix chiming in a few times with additional information. It all seemed to be going smoothly, until the woman he’d noticed earlier looking skeptical rose, clearing her throat and folding her arms, her hands slipping into the wide sleeves of her robe. She was elderly, if Poe was any judge of Twi’lek age, but still a vivid blue-green, her lekku patterned with a paler shade, like reflections on water. She stood straight, her voice clear.

“General Dameron. My name is Ula Riszaci. I fought for the Rebel Alliance as a gunner, in my time. I served with Amilyn Holdo.”

Poe felt the air in the room shift, a pressure that rang in his ears as all eyes turned toward Ula. He leaned subtly against his hands on the podium, his fingertips pressing down to keep him grounded. He knew what was coming, and he dreaded it.

“You spoke of the Battle of Crait earlier, and its aftermath. What you didn’t speak of, General, was your own part in creating the necessity of that battle.” The Twi’lek’s eyes were flinty as she stared him down, lekku tips moving in a way that Poe was sure C-3PO would be eager to interpret for him later. He didn’t need the droid’s help to tell she was unimpressed with him, though. “It is true, is it not, that you disobeyed General Organa’s orders to return to the flagship  _ Raddus  _ when engaged with First Order Dreadnoughts, leading to the destruction of the Resistance’s bombing fleet?”

Poe nodded, answering a beat later when he could trust his voice to remain steady. “Yes, ma’am. And because of that, that Dreadnought was destroyed.”

“And you were then demoted.”

He gave another short nod, voice clipped. The memory of Leia, something of a mother figure to him, slapping him in full view of the bridge crew would always sting. “Yes, ma’am.”

“And when General Organa was injured and Admiral Holdo took command, you led a mutiny against her?”

What could he say to that? You don’t understand? You weren’t there? We were trying to save the entire Resistance, save what Leia had built, save the lives of all our friends? He could feel sweat building at his hairline, and willed himself to breathe. “Yes, I did.”

“Do you know what we do to mutineers here in the RDA, General Dameron?”

“No, ma’am.” He could guess where this was going, though.

“We shoot them.” Her voice was clipped, gaze stony. He wished a pit would open under him and drop him into a Sarlacc’s mouth. A thousand years of being digested would be much better than whatever this was. Those words hung in the air between them for what felt like an eternity, the attention of the crowd turning toward him as they waited for his answer. But how could he answer that? He finally just nodded, voice less steady than he would like it to be, but not too badly shaken.

“General Organa would have been within her rights to do that. I’m grateful she didn’t, obviously.”

“And why, General, should we trust a mutineer? One whose decisions on that day led to many deaths?”

There it was, out in the open. He’d been bracing for it, but it still slipped a knife between his ribs and twisted. He bowed his head a moment in thought, still unsure how to answer. Finally he looked back up at her, taking a measured breath before answering. “Because Leia Organa did. If you trust her judgment...trust me. I’ve given my life to the Resistance. I’ve come close to giving my life  _ for _ it, too, many times. I’ve lost...really, most…” 

Connix’s brow furrowed as Poe paused, head dropping again as a wave of fatigue washed over him. He realized, as if from a great distance, that his hands were trembling where they rested on the podium, and that he had forgotten to continue to speak. Swallowing hard, he forced his fingers to stillness and then met Ula’s eyes again. 

“I’ve lost almost everyone I’ve ever cared about. To this. This cause, this...idea. And everyone I still have, well, they’re here too. The Resistance is all I have. It’s my life. My family. Just like it was General Organa’s.” He’d almost slipped, there, almost called her Leia. He’d always been too familiar with the woman who’d been in and out of his life since he was a baby, his parents her comrades in arms. “She restored my rank. I was who she picked to succeed her in the event of her death, in the last few months of her life. So. That’s why.”

There was a heavy silence in the stone room for a moment, before Yendor rose. The elder statesman of the RDA, he commanded attention as he lifted his hands, lekku subtly shifting. “I think that’s enough for one day. General Dameron has to get ready for tonight’s banquet, after all. As do I. So, if there are no further questions…”

Poe returned to his seat to gather his things, amid the general subdued chatter of the council disbanding. Connix, seeing his bleak expression, murmured as they turned to leave, “I think that was overall a success, Poe. Could have been a lot worse.”

“Could have been better.” He waited until a few Twi’lek had left before making for the exit, not wanting to be seen racing out the door, but also not wanting to be caught in the corridor by Ula Riszaci, if she had any more she wanted to get off her chest. Yendor got a handshake and a word of thanks, a few pleasantries Poe wouldn’t remember two minutes from then. Then they were on their way, Poe’s head suddenly pounding fiercely. He needed a nap. He needed a drink. He needed to not be going to a party in what was now less than four hours. 


	2. Chapter II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein the trio and some friends go to a party. It goes well, until it doesn't.

Finn hadn’t quite tackled Poe when he’d gotten back to the ship, but it was close. He’d at least handed his friend a ration pack and a flask of caf and firmly directed him to sit at the table in the  _ Falcon’s _ common area. Poe had subsided with only a token protest, quietly warmed by Finn’s obvious concern even as it made him feel a little guilty for causing it. He scrolled through messages on his datapad as he ate, shoveling the food in as fast as he could out of habit, while Finn fended off Resistance members wanting to ask him questions, or wondering if there were any new orders.

When he was done he had leaned back, staring blankly at the ceiling, willing himself to get up and get dressed. He didn’t have time to do what he really wanted, which was to crawl into bed for at least a brief nap. That would be dangerous, anyway. The last time he’d snuck in what was supposed to be a short nap, he’d woken up six hours later with his face glued to the pillow with drool, having missed several supposedly vital command meetings. The caf would have to do. He thought he was probably about 75% caf by volume at this point. It made him feel a bit like he was about to phase through his chair and into the future, but at least he was awake.

Once he had used the sonic, shaved (only two nicks, that wasn’t too bad these days), and put on his borrowed suit (it was a dark navy blue, almost black, with a subtle sheen to it that he had to admit he liked), he was feeling a bit more alive. When he came down the ramp of the ship and found his crew for the evening waiting there for him, dressed to the nines, he had to grin.

“Wow. You all clean up pretty good.” 

Connix gave him a sarcastic salute, which didn’t go at all with her pale, sea glass-green gown and robe combination, which turned the efficient Major positively elegant. Nien Nunb had pressed his dress uniform into crisp sharpness—he had joked the day before that it was a good thing they never wore the damn things, as that meant his was as fresh as the day he’d received it—and looked every inch the distinguished veteran. Rose had had to opt for one of Leia’s shorter dresses, which must have been knee length on the princess, but came to mid-calf on the tiny engineer. It was a pale pink appropriate for her name, with artfully scattered beads glittering in the dim light of the borrowed hangar. Rose looked anxious, so he flashed her an encouraging smile before turning to see the last two.

Finn looked...well. Debonair would be a good word for it, in a suit that was a rich, deep purple, a pale gray shirt and black-and-silver ascot peeking out behind the lapels. It fit him perfectly, and he’d somehow found time for a haircut, smelling of a warm, spicy aftershave. He held his arms wide with a triumphant grin, turning for inspection. “Pretty slick, right?”

“Pretty slick,” Poe agreed, heart thumping almost painfully in his chest. He clapped Finn on the shoulder in what he hoped like hell was a casual manner, the aftershave lingering in his nose as he turned to inspect Rey, chiding himself internally.  _ Hold it together, Dameron.  _

But he had to stifle a laugh when he saw Rey’s face, looking as uncomfortable as a felinx caught in a rainstorm. He’d never seen the girl outside of her earth-colored, practical tunics and pants, but here she was, in a rich green gown that created curves on her he hadn’t known she possessed. A cape of the same shade flowed behind her, and her feet were shifting in unfamiliar little slippers made of some kind of silver velvet, a far cry from her usual worn-in boots. Her hair was, for once, down around her shoulders, and he was surprised to see how long it was out of its customary buns. All in all, she looked lovely, but the face…

“You doing all right, Rey?”

“Fine! Fine. I’m fine. I’m just...is all of this stuff really necessary? Can’t I wear a dress uniform too?” She tugged at the high neck of the sheath dress, a move Poe suspected he’d be seeing a lot of that evening. He cocked his head to the side as he considered her.

“Do you even have a dress uniform?”

“....No?”

“Then no.” He grinned to soften the answer, and then reached out. “May I…?” When she nodded, he adjusted the catches of the cape, lining it up straight on her shoulders where it had been crooked before. “Rey, you look great. You’ll do the Resistance proud.”

“I’d rather be fighting Sith acolytes again.” She sounded so mournful he did laugh that time, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he stepped back to give the group one last once-over. 

“And I’d rather get in an X-Wing and blow something up. But this is where the fight is now. Everybody ready?”

They all nodded, Finn giving a little whoop. “Then let’s go party.”

Why had Rey agreed to go to this?

The elegant party was so far out of her comfort zone that she was beginning to suspect she was having a nightmare, not living through actual life. There were entirely too many people, for starters. She could feel each presence through the Force, adding to the cacophony of voices echoing in the room carved out of solid rock, glasses clinking together, laughter, cutlery scraping on plates, the chamber musicians…

There were so many competing emotions here she didn’t know where to begin. Most were happy, even excited to be there, but there were also undercurrents of upset and even anger that kept jarring her attention. How was she supposed to concentrate enough to engage in a conversation? And what in the galaxy did she have to say to these people?

“Are you the Jedi girl?” Rey, startled, glanced to the side and then down, at the shortest Twi’lek man she’d ever seen. He was older, she thought, plump and eager. 

“Er...yes?” she hazarded, glancing around for her friends. Rose and Connix were together at the buffet table, laughing at something or other. Nien Nunb was chatting with a group of other people in uniform, presumably part of the official Rylothian military. To judge by his gestures, he was telling a war story. Poe had been cornered by a large contingent of the RDA. He was smiling broadly, his normally tousled hair slicked back neatly, but Rey could see the new lines and shadows around his eyes and feel, even from here, the stress radiating off of him. None of them would be any help to her. But where was…

Just then, Finn took her arm, sidling up through the crowd and giving the man a nod. “Excuse me, sir. Rey, have you gotten something to eat? Those red cake things are incredible!”

“Not yet, no,” she murmured, leaning gratefully on his arm. 

“Did you bring your lightsaber?” the stranger interrupted enthusiastically. “I’ve always wanted to meet a Jedi! Why, my grandfather served with Ahsoka Tano herself, and he always said she was the most fascinating…”

Rey politely nodded as the man rattled on, Finn occasionally making interested noises or interjecting a question to keep the conversation going. Rey found herself wondering how he’d learned to be so gregarious. Was it that he’d been raised in tight quarters with so many other people? Or had the rigidity of the First Order made him so hungry for genuine contact that once he got out he was forever catching up, even now?

Once they had extricated themselves from the conversation, Finn shepherded her over to the heavily laden buffet tables, grabbing plates for both of them and handing one to her. “You doing okay?”

“Oh...I suppose so.” She took her plate and stared at the spread, lost for where to begin. Then she shrugged and began loading her plate with some of everything. Food in the Resistance hadn’t been much better than the food on Jakku, though a bit more regular most of the time. She was never one to be shy about eating when she could get it. Neither was Finn, raised on a diet of bland rations. Between the two of them, they were amounting quite a pile of delicacies. “I don’t know what to say to people, everything is too loud and too crowded, and people are looking at me like a creature in a zoo, but other than that…”

“They’re looking at us all like that. We’re the only humans in the room. Well, and Nien Nunb.”

“I’m the only Jedi in the galaxy.” She gave him a sidelong smile, before taking her towering plate and going in search of somewhere to sit. He walked alongside her, clearing a path through the curious Twi’lek. “For now, at least. Makes me quite the curiosity, I gather.”

Finn pulled a face in response, pulling out her chair for her before sitting himself. “Has anyone asked you to make anything float yet?”

“Not yet, but it can’t be long. Maybe I should ask them all to watch so I only have to do it once.” She picked up her fork once she was settled, stabbing some sort of ball of fried dough containing...well, she wasn’t sure what the filling was, but it was brilliant green. She shrugged and popped it in her mouth, delighted to find it spicy and tart, possibly the most flavorful thing she’d ever eaten. “Mm! Finn, try one of these,” she mumbled, her mouth still full as she speared another. 

Finn eagerly dug into his own food, moaning appreciation as he tried the little dough balls for himself. They went on this way, trading favorites and making extravagant noises of appreciation, before Rey looked up and realized they were the center of a small circle of attention of their Twi’lek hosts. She nudged Finn to draw his attention to it, blushing furiously. The two of them looked at each other guiltily, before breaking into helpless laughter. Finn recovered first, looking up and raising his glass to toast the surrounding Twi’lek. “It’s all delicious! Thank you to our hosts.”

One of the ornately dressed aliens, a young female, stepped forward with a shy smile. “Excuse me...but is it true that Jedi can levitate items?” Her accent was strong in Basic, her words labored, and maybe something about the effort she was making made Rey feel more kindly inclined toward her than she felt toward some of the more self-important politicians they were surrounded by. So, even though dozens of Twi’lek were watching, she nodded. Swallowing the food in her mouth, she answered aloud.

“With the Force, all things are possible. It’s not so much making things float, like lifting them, as it is just...asking all the atoms that make the items to move  _ up.”  _ On the last word she gestured upward and her plate rose a foot off the table, to gasps of delight and awe from the crowd. Rey met Finn’s eye and gave a resigned smile before letting the plate settle back onto the table. The ice thoroughly broken, the crowd moved in on them.

Poe watched from across the room in one of the first moments he’d managed to snag for himself all night. Long enough to refill his drink, catch his breath, and let the smile slide off of his face. His cheeks hurt from all that smiling. His  _ teeth  _ hurt. He hadn’t really known that was possible. Poe was an extrovert. Talking to people came easily to him. Insincerity did not, which had led to some problems across his career. Unfortunately, a certain level of insincerity was required in politics. Not a field he’d ever wanted to be in. 

He hoped Rey didn’t feel too much like she was being used as a party trick. He’d known curiosity about the reappearance of the Jedi was running high, after all the tales of what had happened on Exegol and Crait, and he’d thought it was prudent to bring her along to satisfy some of that interest. But he knew the little scavenger from Jakku wasn’t exactly accustomed to being the center of attention. Hell, none of them were. The only times in his own life that he had been the focus of so much interest had been when he was in danger of being court-martialed, or when someone was trying to kill him. Maybe that was why it was so uncomfortable to have every person at this party wanting to talk to him when all he really wanted to do was dive into that buffet. And if one more person asked him what it was “really like” to fight battles in space, he might take a running jump into it.

Just when he thought that maybe he did, in fact, have time to get a plate and have some real food for once instead of vacuum-sealed ration packs, a new delegation of Twi’lek approached. Stifling a sigh, he plastered the smile back on his face and began shaking hands as they introduced themselves, members of the official government of Ryloth. Maybe he should have brought C-3PO with him after all. He’d decided that that would be something of a social disaster, but at least the protocol droid would have helped him remember everyone’s name and title. He’d all but given up on that, at this point, but he knew he should be trying. These people were too important to the Resistance to risk angering them over something so trivial as not remembering a name. 

“General Dameron,” the evident leader of this little delegation was saying (what was the man’s name? Something starting with a Z. Zomreno, maybe? Whatever it was, he was important, if only Poe could remember exactly why), “I’d also like to introduce you to our secretary of commerce, Sag’kopuz…”

The thing was, his brain wasn’t obeying him on this anymore. He’d only had a few sips of his drink, a locally produced wine that was tart and sweet, just to be polite, but it had gone directly to his head. His headache from earlier was back with a vengeance, a sluggish pounding at his temples. He’d have to snag Connix as soon as he could and get her to stick with him. The clever major had an excellent memory for administrative things, although she was vastly overqualified to be his social secretary. They were all flying by the seat of their pants and adding new jobs to their plates every day. He mentally added “find an actual secretary” to his to-do list, although he knew perfectly well that by the time he managed to sit down with his datapad he would forget to add it. 

“...undersecretary to the Navy, Igiz’koca…”

Poe shook the woman’s hand with a smile and a murmured “good to meet you,” wishing he could sit down without potentially offending anyone. And eat something. The rations Finn had forced on him had been hours ago now, and if he didn’t get a chance at that buffet soon, his stomach’s growling was going to get loud enough to interrupt the conversation. He was aware they were getting to the end of introductions, and was realizing he’d retained maybe two or three of the names, when he saw Zomreno (or the man he thought was likely Zomreno) brighten and gesture to the side. 

“Ah, and here comes our secretary of defense! General Dameron, may I present—

“Ula Riszaci,” Poe unconsciously interrupted, as he spotted the woman approaching. As before, she was in a gown and robe down to her toes, with bell-like sleeves. This set was black, shot through with threads of gold like the tails following comets. She inclined her head to him, and Poe offered a hand and a smile automatically, though he could feel his chest tighten and his pulse speed up. “Yes, we met. Earlier. Not officially, though.” 

There was an interminably long moment before Riszaci shook his hand, Poe almost giving up and trying to pass his extended hand off as some other gesture. She kept her gaze locked on his, the shake lingering longer than it should have. “Yes. We certainly did.”

“You didn’t mention your position then.” He hadn’t meant it to sound like an accusation, but the tension rising in his throat made it hard not to. She simply inclined her head in acknowledgement.

“I assumed you knew.”

The rebuke stung, even if many wouldn’t have recognized it as one. He caught the implication immediately, though: he should have been more prepared, having memorized the name and face and position of everyone important within Ryloth’s government and the RDA, before ever daring to attempt to enter serious negotiations. He should have, of course, but he’d been a little busy coordinating a fleet, soliciting help from other planets, and occasionally still flying into battle against First Order loyalists. 

“I should have.” He smiled wryly, hoping that a little humility might go some way toward mending the woman’s open distrust of him. He may never be able to make her like him, but at least he could get her to work with him, he hoped. If they couldn’t get the head of Ryloth’s official military on their side, it didn’t bode well for the project. “Unfortunately, things have been so hectic, I haven’t had time to do all my homework.”

“Yes, I hear you do take a rather...hands-on approach to managing things. Commander Nunb was telling me you still fly missions.”

Was she criticizing him? He wasn’t entirely sure, but it didn’t sit comfortably, even though she wore a bland smile and no one else seemed to have noticed. He chose his words carefully.

“Yes, well...after the battle at Exegol, we’ve had a shortage of pilots.” In a corner of his mind, he heard the screams of Temmin “Snap” Wexley, one of his closest friends, going down in flames. They’d lost many good pilots at Exegol—Seftin Vanik, who he’d personally recruited from the New Republic ranks, was another one that particularly stung—but losing Snap had been like losing a brother, and thinking of him still made Poe’s chest ache. “I can’t afford to sit every engagement out. And I won’t ask my people to do anything I won’t do myself.” 

“And that’s admirable, General, but is it wise?” The others were chatting amongst themselves now, though one or two still watched them, maybe drawn by the unspoken tension.

“Maybe not.” Deciding honesty was the best policy, and also the one that sat best with him, he shrugged. “I can’t say I’ve ever been known for my wisdom when it comes to taking risks with my safety.”

“And the safety of others?”

Now, that did sting, and it was meant to. He could feel the blood rise to his cheeks, while she watched him with cool detachment. Poe felt like the subject of some kind of experiment, as if the secretary were poking him with different tools and seeing how he reacted. “No, ma’am, I think I’m pretty damn careful with that.”

“I’m not sure your record speaks to that, General.” She smoothly steered them away from the others, her voice low. He was thankful for that, at least. She wasn’t so hostile to him that she wanted to jettison any support he might have among her own government. But she was still testing him, maybe hoping he’d snap and save her the trouble of having to talk the others into believing he wasn’t trustworthy. He could feel his temper fraying, but swore to himself that he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of seeing him lose his cool.

“With respect, ma’am, people die in wars. Especially when they’re outnumbered, outfunded, and outgunned.”

“And when orders to retreat are ignored? I’d imagine that costs quite a few lives.” 

Poe caught sight of Rose across the room, over Ula Riszaci’s shoulder. He felt a pang. Rose’s sister, Paige Tico, had been on the  _ Cobalt Hammer  _ , the last bomber downed by the First Order when he’d refused Leia’s order to return to the flagship  _ Raddus _ and call off the bombing run. Paige had been the one to drop the bombs that destroyed the First Order Dreadnought. They had also destroyed the  _ Cobalt Hammer _ . Rose had never seemed to hold the order against Poe, but he wouldn’t have blamed her if she had. It’s one thing to believe in a cause and be ready to die for it yourself, and another to see the people you love die for it instead. Poe was all too familiar with that. He took a deep, quiet breath to steady himself, allowing one nod.

“Maybe. It’s hard to know. If the Dreadnought hadn’t been downed, we might have all died. That was the calculus I made in the moment.”

“It’s not up to pilots to make that calculus, General.”

“And that’s why I got busted back down to Captain, yes. We covered that earlier.”  _ Careful,  _ he chided himself for letting his temper get the better of him. At least no one else nearby seemed to have heard. The secretary tilted her chin up as she regarded him through yellow eyes, gold-adorned lekku twitching and then settling again on her shoulders. Poe continued, despite his own warnings to himself, although he moderated his tone. “And as I said earlier, General Organa trusted me, even after that. She knew why I did it, even if it was against her orders, and she understood why I distrusted Admiral Holdo, and we moved past it.”

“‘Distrusted?’ That seems like a weak word for what happened, General. You took over the bridge at blaster-point.” There was a distinct edge to the woman’s voice now, and this time Poe couldn’t stop the mouth that had gotten him in trouble with several governments in his time. 

“Yeah, well, you’ll be happy to know that General Organa did shoot me for that. Sorry her blaster was set to stun. Big disappointment for you.” He regretted saying it instantly, but by then the words were out there.

Ula Riszaci’s eyes narrowed with distaste. She was about to speak again when help arrived, in the form of Connix, accompanied by their host and head of the RDA, Yendor. The elderly Twi’lek smiled broadly, not acknowledging the tension he couldn’t possibly have missed, between Poe’s red face and whatever it was Riszaci’s lekku were saying in their subtle shiftings. 

“Ah, Secretary Riszaci! You were telling me earlier that you wanted more details about the Resistance’s fleet capabilities, and I’ve found just the woman for you. Allow me to introduce you to Major Kaydel Ko Connix. The Major is a positive font of information. Would you mind if I borrow General Dameron for a moment?”

The maneuver was accomplished so smoothly that before he knew it, Poe had been whisked away by Yendor and Connix was drawing the secretary aside, the Twi’lek woman unable to shake her off without looking ungracious. She did cast a backward glance at Poe, which he caught because he looked over his own shoulder at her. 

“Your Major Connix seemed to think you needed rescuing, General,” Yendor murmured close by his ear as they made their way a decent distance away. “My apologies for not managing to keep Ula at bay. She can be quite tenacious when she’s convinced of her righteousness.”

“So she should be.” Poe took another sip of his wine to steady his nerves, and could almost feel it burning into his blood vessels. How strong was this stuff, exactly? It was good, anyway, and it helped melt some of the tension out of his shoulders. “It’s fine. But thanks for interrupting. I’m not used to being diplomatic yet.”

“It does take some adjustment.” Yendor’s eyes crinkled in amusement, his lekku smoothing down against his shoulders. The statesman was dressed to the hilt tonight in flowing robes of white over a silver-flecked suit of pale yellow, setting off his blue skin. “ You know I was a pilot myself?”

“I heard, yes. In the Rebel Alliance and the New Republic, right?”

“Correct. I knew your mother, though not well. Different squadrons. You were a New Republic flier yourself, I know. I did that for years before I became an emissary to the Senate for Ryloth.” The older man seemed lost in thought for a moment. Poe looked longingly at the buffet table as they passed it, but Yendor seemed to be mid-speech, so he let the idea of food go for now. 

“At any rate, that transition from pilot to politician...that was difficult. Very difficult. I missed flying, of course, but I also missed being able to make decisions mostly on my own. Paradoxically, I also missed having someone else tell me what to do. Does that make sense?”

It did. Poe nodded, swallowing a sip of wine before answering. “Every call you make with your own ship is yours. But there’s always someone at the top who can see the whole game board. Someone making the big calls.”

“And General Organa was among the best at that.” Yendor looked at him with some sympathy, every inch the kindly grandfather he was when he wasn’t fighting a constant war to save Ryloth from outside manipulation. “So I imagine you miss her presence very much.”

Poe was embarrassed by how much emotion he felt at that, taking another drink to give himself a moment. He settled for nodding, not trusting his voice until after he’d swallowed. “Every day.”

“As do I. Leia was a good friend, if you don’t mind my calling her that.”

At that, Poe had to smile. “She insisted I call her that, too, when we weren’t in the middle of a battle. Not a lady to stand on ceremony.” 

“No, she wasn’t.” Yendor chuckled at some private memory, eyes a little distant. “Rather the opposite. Probably why she had such trouble in the Senate at times. She was well-respected, but not always liked. If Leia thought your idea was bad, she was quick to let you know, and not always in a diplomatic fashion. It does a politician well to know when not to answer back, doesn’t it?”

Poe nodded. “Message received,” he said with a quick, wry smile. He had finally calmed down again, though he felt rather wrung out. It felt like he had been at the party for hours, rather than the ninety minutes or so it had been at that point. The thought of how many people he hadn’t yet spoken to made another wave of fatigue crash over him. Yendor must have seen it in his face, because when the other man spoke it was again with sympathy. 

“You’re doing fine, General.”

“Please, Poe is just fine.”

“Poe, then. You’re doing well, especially considering the circumstances. None of this is ideal. I’m aware you likely didn’t even want this job. Continuing to fly in battles isn’t exactly the action of a man who’s ready to be grounded behind a desk. But the Resistance needs you.”

“And that is what I’m gonna keep telling myself.” Poe flashed him a grin, reassuring as he could make it. “I’m not going anywhere, sir.”

“Good.” Just that, and then Yendor smiled. Poe noted that unlike some male Twi’leks, he hadn’t filed his teeth down to points, and wondered what that cultural difference was. C-3PO would know. “Now, can I buy you a bit more time to breathe, or are you ready to join the fray again?”

He had to consider that a moment, as he finished the last of his wine and passed the empty glass off to a passing waiter with a tray. “I think...I’ll step out for a moment, if someone’ll point me toward the refresher.”

“Of course. And I’ll try to keep Ula occupied the rest of the evening. I want this to work, Poe.” The Twi’lek had been smiling, but it faded now as he looked down at the shorter human. “Ryloth may never have joined the New Republic fully, but our hearts were with the Rebel Alliance, and the Resistance is its descendant. We cannot have another authoritarian government springing up and trying to fill the spots left vacant by the First Order.”

“I want it to work too, sir. I think it has to, or we’re in some trouble.” Just saying that opened the pit of anxiety in the bottom of his stomach again. 

“Call me Yendor, please. And I think it will work. Just give it some time.” Yendor laid a paternal hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze before moving on, gliding back toward the governmental group. He’d deposited Poe near a little-used door beyond the bar, where he could with any luck duck out without being buttonholed by anyone else. Poe interrupted a passing waiter to ask for directions, then slipped into the blessedly quiet hallway to find the refresher. 

He took his time in the refresher, trying to put his thoughts back in order before he went back to the party. Yendor had at least steered him toward the less popular hallway, on the opposite side from the banquet hall’s main entrances. He was alone as he walked slowly back toward the main room, steps dragging more the closer he got. 

If he was honest with himself, he very much didn’t want to go back in there. It was bad enough just dealing with all the glad-handing and insensitive questions from people who had stayed safe on Ryloth while he and his friends had been fighting and dying for all their freedom. Knowing Ula Riszaci was in that room, probably looking for an opportunity to slip Yendor’s supervision and corner him again, or worse, busy telling other people what she thought about him and his record, made him more reluctant than he cared to admit. 

He came to a stop in the middle of the hallway when he recognized that feeling in himself, interrogating it. He had his failings, he knew all too well, but cowardice had never been one of them. You couldn’t be a successful pilot if being afraid ever debilitated you to the point where you couldn’t go forward. He’d seen what happened when pilots froze up in the face of danger, and it never ended well. That had never been him. He’d been afraid, of course, even terrified, many times. Too many to count. But he’d never been incapacitated by fear before. That just wasn’t him. His problem had always been acting too rashly, not too slowly.

He wasn’t incapacitated now either, of course. But he was reluctant, and it bothered him. He scrubbed his hands down his face, then smoothed his hair back again, curls starting to rebel against the pomade he’d managed to acquire. They’d had to fight for everything to be there, from literally battling the First Order to begging for every credit and scrap they could scrounge up from their allies. He was tired of begging. They’d saved the galaxy from a new Empire. Weren’t they owed something? Help? Respect, if nothing else?

After they’d cleared their second plates and gotten clear of the worst of the crowds that had gathered around them, Finn and Rey sidled up to the bar. There were some intriguing bottles on the shelves, some bright blue and green, that Finn in particular wanted to try. He was distracted by a list of signature cocktails for the event, picking up the sheet of flimsiplast to study it.

“These names are wild. ‘Lylek Blood.’ ‘X-Wing Fuel.’” Finn laughed. When Rey didn’t join him, he glanced over at her, immediately concerned to find her looking distracted and strained. “Rey? You okay?”

“I think we should find Poe,” Rey said slowly, her gaze drifting over the crowd before focusing on a door past the bar. 

“Uh...okay? Why, something wrong?”

“I’m not...sure, but...something is different.”

Poe almost wished he had the comfort of believing that Ula Riszaci didn’t really care about the people they’d lost to the Dreadnought; to the flight to Crait; in the battle on the planet’s barren white surface. That she had just used his lost comrades in a bid for some kind of political victory. But her disdain for him had felt very genuine, her anger real. She was a veteran herself, after all. He’d thought he’d made his peace with his actions long before now, but her words had torn open the wounds of self-doubt all over again. He found himself pacing slowly back and forth in the hallway, hands thrust into the pockets of his borrowed, slightly too-long pants. 

Leia had trusted him, he reminded himself. Trusted him with the fate of the Resistance, her greatest project. Her judgment was the one he trusted above anyone else’s, even if he’d occasionally chafed under commands he hadn’t understood at the time. In the dark days after Crait, when they’d been reduced to a fraction of what the Resistance had once been, sometimes only Leia’s forgiveness and understanding had kept him going. His squad, Black Squadron, had forgiven him too, the people whose opinion mattered most to him.

Of course, that had been before some of them died. The thought was brutal enough to make him flinch. Snap hadn’t even had time for last words, not really. What kind of last words were “I see it”? His wife, Karé Kun, who’d been flying with Poe since before he left the New Republic for the Resistance and took her with him, had heard it all over the comms. Her screams haunted Poe as much as Snap’s did. 

What if Riszaci’s problem was not with the Resistance, but solely with him? Should he step down, get his stained name out of the equation? Would the Resistance be able to find a home then? He’d do it in a heartbeat, except for the fact that he had no obvious successor. Fame and power had never been things he was interested in achieving. What he had was a lot of loyal officers who did their jobs very well, but who were not prepared to be handed command. And if the Resistance fractured now, it would never recover, not without an obvious threat to fight against. It was likely the First Order would piece itself back together, and the whole thing would have been for nothing. 

And just thinking about all of this made him  _ so damn tired _ . He realized he was breathing hard, and was surprised to find that he’d been running his hands through his hair, thoroughly ruining whatever sleekness he’d managed to achieve while getting ready for tonight. Holding his hands out in front of himself, he was startled again to see they were visibly shaking. That’s when he realized the wine had turned his head to mush, he hadn’t eaten in hours, and he was no longer sure which direction the floor was in. 

When the doors to the banquet hall opened behind him, he turned, and it felt like he was moving underwater. He dimly registered Finn and Rey’s worried faces before the world tilted abruptly sideways, then went black. 


	3. Chapter III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Poe gets a wakeup call, and a plan is hatched.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few quotations in the middle of this chapter come from the comics collection Star Wars: Poe Dameron Vol. 3: Legend Lost

“Poe?” 

He heard the voice as if from a long distance, and turned his face away. He wasn’t ready to be awake, and the light was too bright in here anyway. If he could just get five more minutes…

“Poe? Come on, buddy, time to wake up.”

That voice...he knew it. But it was the scent that fully woke him up. The cologne, soft and subtle now, but one he had cause to remember. His eyes cracked open, squinting against the light of...what was this? His berth on the _Falcon?_ And there, when he turned his head toward the voice, was its source. Finn, his jacket off and ascot missing, but otherwise still dressed for the party. Finn, rising from a chair that folded down from the wall, beaming down at him where he lay on the bed. 

“Finn?” Poe croaked, his throat parched. He started to ease up on his elbows, but Finn waved him back down, leaning to grab a flask of water from the bedside shelf. He pressed it into Poe’s hands, and Poe rolled to one side to take a cautious drink, eyeing Finn. “What...happened?”

“Doctor Kalonia thinks you just...passed out. At the party.” Finn was watching him nervously, like he was ready to swoop in and help him if he showed any signs of weakness. While normally he would be privately thrilled to have Finn showing so much interest in him, the circumstances left something to be desired. Like the part about passing out at a party.

“At the _party?_ ” Poe nearly dropped his drink when it clicked. Instead he set it hastily aside, shoving up to a seated position and then stopping as a wave of dizziness crashed into the side of his head. Finn did reach out a steadying hand then, grasping his elbow while Poe shut his eyes tightly and groaned. “Please tell me I did not pass out in front of the entire damn Twi’lek delegation.”

“You didn’t! You didn’t, it’s okay. You were out in the hallway. Rey felt...well, she just knew you weren’t doing too good, and she brought me out looking for you, and you looked...not great, and then you just…” Finn mimed the collapse, eyes widening as he held his hand upright, then let it flop over to the side. “Rey used the Force. Caught you right before you hit the ground.”

Finn sat down again, this time on the edge of the bed, studying Poe critically. Poe glanced down at himself, wondering for the first time how he’d gotten down to his undershirt and boxers, then deciding he really didn’t need to think about that while Finn was sitting on his actual bed. The younger man still smelled so good, although he looked a bit dishevelled. 

Suddenly, the scent hit his brain at just the right angle, and he was struck by a watery memory. Of falling, then suddenly being caught by something invisible and feather-soft. Of blackness, then stirring and finding himself in someone else’s arms. Someone who smelled good. Just like that.

Poe cleared his throat and looked away, leaning carefully to retrieve his water, and hoping that obscured any redness coming to his face. “How long have I been out?”

“Uh…” Finn leaned across the tiny room to pick up his datapad from the little desk that folded down beside the chair he’d been on. “Let’s see. Call it...eleven hours.”

“Eleven hours?!” 

The shout brought a flurry of activity—Poe struggling to get past Finn and out of bed, Finn holding out an arm to block him from doing so, and the door opening to let in a stream of figures. First came Dr. Harter Kalonia, then Rey hanging back in the doorway, then rolling past them all, a very concerned, clucking droid.

“Buddy!” Poe stopped struggling a moment, reaching out a hand to rub over the top of BB-8’s head affectionately, listening to the frantic string of beeps and whistles. “No...no, it’s okay, I just need to get up. Finn. Let me up.”

“No can do, Poe.” Finn sounded apologetic, but Poe fixed him with a glare, and BB-8 swiveled sharply to face him, his welding torch popping out to wag threateningly in Finn’s direction.

“Beebee-Ate, put that away,” Dr. Kalonia said, even as Poe waved the droid back away from Finn. “Finn is not hurting General Dameron, he’s simply trying to help.” The room, barely big enough for the furniture in it and one person, was bursting at the seams, and Poe’s head was starting to pound again as the droid reluctantly put the little blue flame away. 

“Hi, doc. I’m okay, I promise. Good to go.” His mouth still felt fuzzy, his thoughts somehow too thick, and his head like it was about to burst, but he had eleven hours to get back, and he was already starting to look around for his datapad. When Finn realized what he was doing, he leaned over Poe to get to the shelves on the other side of the bed, Poe grabbing uselessly past him as Finn snagged the pad first and tossed it to Rey, who caught it and promptly disappeared out the door. “Finn! Come on, I need that!”

“General Dameron.” The doctor, an older human woman who’d been with the Resistance even longer than Poe and who had treated him through many, many injuries at this point, just sounded amused. “I’ll be the one to tell you whether or not you’re okay. That’s my job.”

Poe stared at her for a moment, then at Finn’s worried face, before collapsing back against his pillow with a muttered oath. “You know, I outrank you all.”

“Mmhm.” The doctor sounded unimpressed, shooing Finn off the bed and back to the door to stand there, Rey rejoining him as she rounded the bed, mediscan device in hand. “Do you mind them all being there, or do you want me to shut the door?”

He didn’t particularly want Finn and Rey watching him half-dressed and prone, but what did it matter? They’d seen literally everything else of the embarrassing incident. He tugged the top sheet up over his waist and shrugged. “It’s fine. I’m fine. Guess I just went too hard on the wine, right?”

“According to Major Connix, you only had one glass. Now, shush a minute.” The friendly disrespect was as much a trademark of Dr. Kalonia as her long, gray hair. Long used to her ways, Poe shushed, knowing things would be easier that way. She passed the mediscan over him thoroughly, Poe avoiding looking at his friends as he waited for her verdict. He rested one hand on BB-8’s head where the droid waited beside the bed, making soft, puzzled whistles. The contact quieted him, but it also helped Poe feel a little more oriented to the present moment. His head still hurt, but it was no longer pounding so hard he could feel his pulse in his eyeballs. That was progress, of a sort. 

The mediscan beeped when it was finished, and the doctor stared at it long enough that Poe had a twinge of nerves. What if this actually was something serious? The Resistance couldn’t afford to have him out of commission for treatment, not now. Then an even worse possibility occurred to him, and he spoke before he could stop himself. “It’s not…”

“Bloodburn?” Kalonia, one step ahead of him, swiftly shook her head. “No.” Poe sagged back against the bed in relief, his heart thumping from the momentary burst of fear. Bloodburn was the one thing any pilot would fear, a disease that would ground them forever. And shorten their lives substantially in the process, but more importantly, he’d never have been able to fly again. At least it wasn’t that.

“No, it’s not bloodburn,” the doctor continued, before fixing Poe with a stern eye. “But that’s something you’re going to risk if you keep going at this pace. You don’t have a disease, Poe. You’re exhausted.”

“What? Nah, never better.” He heard Rey’s snort and shot her a warning look, shaking his head as he sat back up. Slowly, this time, his hand again reaching out to rest on BB-8’s head. “Walking around and talking to people isn’t exactly flying a six week combat mission in Hutt Space or something.”

“Is that so?” Kalonia’s eyebrows lifted, and she traded the mediscan for her datapad. “Let’s do a little intake, shall we?”

Poe sighed, then gestured for her to continue. “Yeah, let’s get it over with. I need to get back to work.”

“We’ll see about that.” Poe found Kalonia’s tone maddening, but clamped his mouth shut, waiting for her to go on. “When was the last time you had a full day off?”

“...Pass.” 

Kalonia smiled, but it was grim. “How much sleep did you get last night?”

He opened his mouth to answer, then shut it, considering. Difficult to stretch the truth, with Rey and Finn standing right there. “Four, five hours.” Finn was already shaking his head.

“Good try, Poe. But we’ve been comparing notes. I went to bed at oh one hundred hours, and you were still up. Rey got up at oh four hundred to relieve Chewie at the helm, and you were up. And Beebee-Ate says…”

“Fine,” Poe amended hastily. “More like two or three.”

“Poe.” The doctor spoke with exaggerated patience, as she noted down the answer. “I know you know that isn’t nearly enough.”

“I know, but c’mon, I was getting ready for today. Uh, yesterday. It’s not like that’s every night!” BB-8 let out a low, disapproving squawk, head swiveling to shove Poe’s hand off. “I am not a liar!”

“Your droid there is loyal, but also concerned. He told us you’re lucky to get four hours a night, and you’re often restless. Would you say that’s right?”

Poe shot BB-8 a sidelong glare, but reluctantly nodded. “Yeah, but...I never slept a lot.” That wasn’t quite true. He’d slept just fine before the First Order had begun their rise, other than a period of night terrors when he was a kid. As a young man in and just out of flight school, he’d been modestly famous for his ability to take a nap any time, anywhere, including once or twice on asphalt, under an X-wing in the middle of repairs. Since the First Order had become a legitimate threat, though, he’d rarely slept an unbroken eight hours.

“Not like the last few months. Poe, no one can keep going like that for months at a time without consequences. You’re not getting any younger, you know.”

“I’m only 33!”

“Poe. You’re 34. Says so right here.” Kalonia tapped the datapad, before continuing. “Now...have you been eating well? No, never mind,” she interrupted, whatever was on his face convincing her he was about to try lying anyway. “I know the answer to that. You’ve lost seven kilos since you last came to see me. And that was just after Exegol, so don’t tell me you were more sedentary back then.”

Poe didn’t know how to answer that. He supposed his pants were fitting a little more loosely than usual, but it had been information filed under stuff he didn’t have time to worry about just then. He folded his arms over his chest, both defensive and aware that he was being defensive. “Look, the work is hard. Okay, yeah. But there’s only so many hours in a day, and everything has to get done.”

“And you have to be the one to do it?” Kalonia’s eyebrows raised again, and Poe sighed, sensing another lecture coming on. “You’re surrounded by people who can help.”

“And they’re already working their asses off too. I can’t ask any more of them. And there are decisions I have to be the one making, people I have to be the one talking to…” He looked over to Rey and Finn, including them in his plea for understanding. He was starting to feel like a kid being scolded for not sharing his toys. Rey was the one who answered, compassion in her brown eyes. 

“There are all those things, yes. But Poe, other people can learn to take on more of this.”

“Who’s around to teach them? Me?” He tried to grin, but it was strained. “Kinda busy.”

“Poe, c’mon.” Finn shook his head, hands tossed up in frustration. “You’ve gotta take this seriously. You passed out! If Rey hadn’t caught you, you could’ve hit your head or something.”

“Finn, that’d be a long way from my first head injury, as you can probably guess.” He felt bad for making the quip, even as he said it. He didn’t like to upset Finn. Any of them, really, but especially not Finn. He couldn’t seem to help it, though, having almost always been able to talk his way out of situations before.

But why was he fighting this one, anyway? 

“Poe.” For once, Finn actually sounded stern. Poe’s smile died at once. “You’re lucky you didn’t do that in front of everyone in there. We’re already having to make up a story about you getting called away for some urgent business. You think any Twi’lek getting cold feet would be reassured if the leader of the Resistance is falling over in the middle of dinner?”

Struck silent, Poe shook his head, unable to meet Finn’s eye.

“You think anyone in the Resistance is going to be happy if their leader can’t lead because he’s making himself sick?”

“No.” Poe’s answer was barely audible, heat rising in his face.

“Then we better figure out something else, because Rey and me are gonna be gone soon, and then we can’t cover for you anymore. So will you please just let us help you, here?” Poe had never heard Finn sound quite that angry before, certainly not at him. He looked up at his friend, stricken, and swallowed hard over his suddenly dry throat.

“I...yeah. Yeah, okay.” 

“Okay.” Finn let out a sigh, patting the door frame with one hand before turning to go.

“Finn, where are you…?”

The others were tactfully silent as Finn looked back over his shoulder. “I’ve got some calls to make. Why don’t you talk to the doctor?” 

At that, Finn left, and Rey slipped out after him, followed after a moment’s hesitation by BB-8. The droid, at least, paused to bump against Poe’s elbow in a comforting nudge before leaving, presumably to help with whatever plans they were cooking up. Poe watched them go with an unexpected tightness in his throat, his face flushed.

After the door slide closed behind them, Dr. Kalonia was quiet for a moment, puttering with her equipment bag. Then she snapped it shut and looked down at him, a faint frown on her face. “So. Ready to hear what you need to do, General?”

“I still outrank you.” He managed a small, lopsided smile, which she returned.

“You do. But I’m old enough to be your mother, so have a little respect.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He let out a long breath, letting his head drop. He studied the sheets pooling in his lap, shoulders slowly lowering as he realized they’d been bunched around his ears. “Okay. Ready.”

“There are two ways to deal with this. First, you take at least a few days off to rest, and then you permanently reduce your work hours. Eight hours a day, maximum, until you feel 100% yourself again.”

Poe was already shaking his head in resignation. “I can’t. Even saying I can manage the days off, which I can’t, eight hours…”

“I thought so. In which case...you take at least three weeks off, before I clear you to go back to work. And after that, you’re free to resume whatever absurd hours you like, although I’d advise you to take it easier than you have been.”

“Three _weeks?”_ He shook his head again. “No way. No way can I swing that. What’re my other options?”

“There aren’t any.” Kalonia’s words were clipped, her arms folding as she studied him. “Unless you count working yourself into some kind of cardiac event next time. Poe...can I give you some more personal advice?”

Poe sighed, letting his head drop back. He knew this was coming. But Finn had made it clear he couldn’t blow this off, unless he wanted his friends furious with him. “Yeah. Yeah, sure.”

“You know I knew General Organa—Leia—a very long time, right?” Poe nodded, and Kalonia continued. “I’ve never known someone who worked harder. Even when she was pregnant, right up until the day she delivered, she worked day and night.”

“Maybe that wasn’t the best call, considering how that turned out.” Poe’s mouth twisted in a wry smile, which Kalonia acknowledged with a dip of her head.

“I don’t think we can blame her work schedule for the workings of the Dark Side, but maybe it didn’t help. But my point is this: although Leia was an incredibly hard worker, she was also a remarkably happy, healthy person. And that was because she surrounded herself with other hard workers, people she could trust implicitly. People like you.”

Poe was silent then, meeting Kalonia’s eyes as she continued. “She also, at least until the last few years, had Han around to tell her to knock it off and take a break when she needed it. And sometimes she’d blow him off, but when he insisted, she would listen. And you know what? The galaxy didn’t collapse. Those trusted people she’d set up around her? They kept everything running just fine.”

“During times like this?” Poe gestured broadly, encompassing the whole situation. The Resistance, at a tipping point. Ryloth, not sure yet whether or not to commit.

“When she had to. Just something to think about. Regardless…” She stooped to pick up her bag, holding it in both hands as she rose to study him. “I’ve left you some sleep meds outside. Nasal sprays. You’ll be out in about thirty seconds after having one of those, so make sure you’re lying down before you take it. Use them, for at least a few nights. It’s not a long-term solution, and it’s not as good for you as natural sleep, but it will help you get back in the habit. And Poe?”

“Yes, ma’am?” Somehow, he felt more tired than he had before, even after eleven hours of unplanned sleep. 

“Take my advice, please. I don’t want to see you hurt. But more than that, I won’t see the Resistance suffer because you have a problem with taking too much responsibility on yourself. It’s time to learn no one is truly irreplaceable.” She smiled, softening the words, before turning to go. “I’m strongly suggesting you take the day. I think your friends have something planned to cover for you.”

“I’ll...try. No promises.”

“Of course not.” Kalonia left on that dry comment, waving over her shoulder before closing the door behind her. Poe sat motionless for a long moment, before letting out a sigh and sinking back down onto his back, staring at the ceiling, pockmarked with age. 

There was something Leia had said to him, before the war had officially started. It had been in the wake of the death of L’ulo L’ampar, Black Squadron pilot, Rebel Alliance veteran, and Dameron family friend who’d been like an uncle to him. L’ulo had been his mother’s squadmate, back in the day, and then Poe had been his commanding officer on the mission that had gotten him killed. Poe had been itching to get back to action after the Duros’ funeral, but Leia had stayed him. Grounded him, actually, until she felt he was ready to do his job for the right reasons. 

_“The truth is, I can’t let all of this rest on my shoulders forever.”_

Poe stretched, testing his muscles. Despite the long rest he’d just had, he felt like his bones were filled with lead, or like someone had turned up the gravity on Ryloth. He realized that the fate of the Resistance in the past months had been like a physical weight on his shoulders, every new task adding a few kilos until he was staggering under it. Was that how Leia had felt?

That day had been when she’d let him know that she saw him as more than an excellent pilot or even the commander of her elite squadron, but as something of a successor. She’d known the war would likely outlive her, even before it had begun in earnest. 

_“I honestly don’t know how long we’ll have to, well, resist. The Rebellion went on for decades. And, I’m sorry to say, probably sooner than we’d like, I’ll be luminous.”_

Luminous. It was the word he’d used for L’ulo, when he’d spoken at his funeral, recalling how Leia had told him of the death of Obi-Wan Kenobi, how the old Jedi Master had simply vanished and become one with the Force. He hadn’t known then that within a few years he’d see the same thing happen to Leia, coming back to where he’d left her before flying off to Exegol and finding only her empty clothes. His throat constricted at the memory, his eyes stinging.

_“No one person can win a war. It’s not about you, and it’s not about me.”_

Leia’s warm voice echoing in his head, Poe murmured his answer, then and now, aloud. “It’s about everyone else.”

_“Exactly.”_

Poe closed his eyes tightly, tears that had been building up falling to trail down his cheeks. Just those, but that was more than he’d shed in a long, long time. He let them sit there a moment before scrubbing them away with the back of his arm, murmuring to himself. Or not to himself, but to the memory of the great woman who’d led him here. “Thanks, General.”

When he walked out into the common area of the _Falcon,_ it was to find a small gathering of people there, and he was glad he’d taken the time to put on a clean uniform and comb his hair. He’d expected to have this meeting soon enough, but they’d made it easier than he expected. 

Around a temporary table set up in the cramped quarters, there was Rey, Finn, Nien Nunb, Connix, and Rose—everyone who’d been at the party, who presumably knew what had happened. He’d have to deal with all that later. There were also a few other faces—Yendor, his son and second-in-command Charth, Black Squadron pilot Jessika Pava. There was a holo, too, a small blue figure emanating from a disc. Was that…?

“Maz?”

“Poe Dameron! I hear you’re being very much yourself, flyboy.” He smiled a bit at that, subdued. Maz Kanata’s voice was as strong as ever, and to judge by how she was dressed in a robe of what looked like woven grass, a tall tropical drink in her hand topped with an extravagant concoction of fruit, they had interrupted her vacation.

“Don’t know any other way to be, Maz. Everyone.” He gave the group an awkward nod as he drew up to the table, reaching for the only empty chair. “May I?”

“Of course.” Rey defused some of the tension in the room with a smile, gesturing at the chair. He took a seat as she continued, watching him curiously. “We were hoping you’d be able to join us soon.”

As Poe sat, Finn shot up from his seat, disappearing aft through the ship’s corridors. That was a little startling, and Poe turned to watch him go before looking back to the others. “So...pretty sure I know what this is about.”

“I’m sure you do,” Maz laughed, her voice crackling a bit in transmission. “You’re no dummy, Poe. Stubborn, yes. Arrogant, yes. But no dummy.”

“Don’t hold back, Maz. Tell me what you really think.” Even an hour ago, that would have come out angry. Now he was genuinely amused, and Maz laughed in return as Rey watched him through narrowed eyes. Jess Pava leaned her elbows on the table, starting to speak to him earnestly.

“Poe, we’re worried about you. This is all between us for now, but with what Finn and Rey have been saying, we have to figure out a solution.”

“I know, Jess. Don’t worry.” He leaned over, clapping his old friend on the shoulder. She looked puzzled, clearly having expected more resistance from him. Poe scanned the faces around the table, before shrugging.

“You’re all right. I need a break. I intend to take one.”

“Okay, now Poe, you’re going to eat this, and then you’re going to listen to us, and—sorry, what?” Finn strode back into the room, slapping a bowl of some kind of hot noodles in front of him, some of the broth slopping onto the table. He paused then, eyes narrowing as his ears caught up with him.

“I said you’re right, buddy.” Poe rested a hand briefly on Finn’s forearm, before turning to address the rest of them more directly. Finn, stunned into silence, set down the utensils he’d been carrying before dropping back into his chair, next to Poe’s. “I’ve been carrying too much. I need some help. And I hope someone is recording this, because I’m not _ever_ saying that again.”

“Not to worry, General Dameron! I have been recording all proceedings, although they will of course be stored in my sensitive database, classified for all but the highest security clearances within the Resistance. I can reassure you that my encryption protocols are second to none, and—”

“That’s all right, Threepio, I believe you,” Poe interrupted hastily, turning toward the protocol droid standing in the corner by the Dejarik table. Chewbacca was leaning there too, furry arms folded over his chest. The Wookiee made a noise something like a laugh, sharp teeth flashing. “I wasn’t really...well. Never mind.”

He looked at each of them in turn, the center of attention once again. He felt a lightening in his spirit at the thought that for a little while, at least, he was about to be able to escape that feeling. “This is good. This is exactly the group of people I had in mind.”

“To do what, exactly?” Connix sounded wary. Poe flashed her a disarming smile, feeling more himself than he had in quite some time. Still tired beyond words, still hungry—he picked up the fork on that thought, digging in to the noodles as he held up a finger to indicate they should all wait a moment. The noodles were good, hot and spicy with flavors he didn’t quite recognize, and he ate two more bites before he could stop himself.

“Mmph. Oh man, that’s good stuff. Okay. To pass over control of the Resistance to a select council. Not...forever,” he cautioned, as he pushed the bowl away. “But long enough for me to go to Ahch-To with Rey and Finn for a few weeks. And then we’ll figure out something more permanent.”

There was surprised silence for a moment, that was broken by a triumphant laugh from the holo of Maz Kanata. “Ha! Not so arrogant anymore, maybe. So, you’ve come to your senses.”

“Maybe what I needed was a good night’s sleep.” He grinned at the hologram, even feeling affection toward the old bag. She was a useful old bag, at least. “So here’s what I had in mind.”

He turned his head to take them all in, feeling strangely energized. So this was what it felt like to finally give up some control. No, not control, it had never really been about control, for him. Responsibility. He’d felt like he couldn’t possibly try to take on less than everything that came his way, because that would have been dodging his responsibilities. But it had indeed been a kind of arrogance, that he had thought he could handle anything life threw at him, without having to ask for help. That he thought he was the one best suited to take on everything tossed his way. His first instinct had always been to throw himself headlong into whatever challenge was posed to him, trusting himself to figure it out. It had mostly served him well, but the last few years had finally shown him that he needed to put a bit more thought into his path going forward, especially when lives other than his own were on the line.

As someone wise had once said to him, not everything could be solved by jumping in an X-wing and blowing something up. 

Rey looked pleased, he thought, and Finn stunned. Nien Nunb was smirking, as much as could be told from the Sullustan’s jowled face. Yendor was smiling to himself, and Charth frowning. Connix looked about ready to tear out her own hair. “What do you mean, what you had in mind? We have a plan worked out already!”

“Okay. Let’s listen to my plan, then your plan, and then we’ll decide what to do.” He raised his eyebrows at her with a smile and she subsided, giving a confused nod.

“Right. So...we divide the responsibilities. Jess, you’re in charge of the fleet and military operations. Nien, you’re chief tactical advisor. Rose, head of fleet maintenance and engineering.” He pointed to each of them in turn, then swiveled back to Connix. “Kaydel. You’re going to head up our diplomatic wing.”

“But...I’m just a major,” she said, flummoxed. 

“Nope. You’re a Commander now. I can do that, you know. Get yourself a new insignia. Sorry we don’t have time for a formal ceremony, but things are moving pretty fast these days, yeah?”

“But—”

“Kay. You’ve been next to me through all of this. You know this stuff inside and out. Threepio will be here, with his droid spy network and the entire history of the Resistance and the galaxy in his memory banks. And let’s be honest, you’re better at being diplomatic than me. Talk, I can do, but all this negotiating...whoof.” He grimaced and waved the idea away from himself, then turned to the two Twi’lek at the table. “Yendor, Charth. Can I count on you to work directly with Commander Connix to get this new base question ironed out?”

“As long as we can get Secretary Riszaci on board, which may in fact be easier with you out of the picture...I believe so.” Yendor inclined his head, his son eyeing him warily a moment before shrugging. The younger, pale purple Twi’lek nodded to Poe as well.

“I think so. The RDA is firmly behind you, and we’re ready to take that public.”

“Good. For the record, I think that old Imperial base may do the trick, but I’m gonna let Rose have the final word on whether or not it’s possible to get it up and running in time.” Rose nodded, her eyes wide.

“Okay,” Poe said, clapping his hands together and surveying the table. Finn looked like he couldn’t quite understand what was going on here. Rey was grinning into the cup of tea in her hands. “So. That’s my plan. What was yours?”

“You know what?” Connix said after a moment, giving her head an irritable shake. “Never mind.”

“Works for me. Let’s do my plan. Unless there’s any objections?” He looked from one to the other of them. The wave of energy he’d gotten upon making his decision was about to crest, he could feel it. When he was satisfied no one was objecting, other than with stunned faces, he looked toward the holo. “Maz? I trust you’ll be making yourself available to help with information-gathering and finding us some more allies?”

Maz couldn’t seem to stop chuckling. It took her a moment to catch her breath. “Dameron, you are full of surprises. Yes, of course. When it’s in my best interests.”

“Of course.” He knew Maz well enough now to know that the “pirate queen” made an odd ally, but a useful one, and that she would never stoop to working with First Order holdouts. That was all he could ask for, really. “We’ll let you get back to your...what, sunbathing?”

“No, no! Terrible for the skin. How do you think I would keep my girlish face?” She puckered her wrinkled lips at the camera, and he laughed, everyone else just watching in bemusement. This was, frankly, fun. He might be a little lightheaded, come to think of it. “I was about to go solar sailing on Mon Cala. If I hurry, I can still make the typhoon run. Makes it much more exciting. Come along next time, Dameron. You’d like it.”

“I bet I would, Maz. You have fun.” As the holo blipped out of existence, Maz’s laugh abruptly fading, Poe smiled at the rest of them. “Look...we have two days before Rey and Finn ship out, and I’m going with them. I want to see some more detailed plans for the next few weeks before then. And I’m not going to be the one making them, just...okaying them. That sound doable?”

“Andu me muoyo matiagaga wira,” Nien Nunb snickered in his liquid voice, shaking his head as he rose from the table. Poe mentally translated from his somewhat limited Sullustan. Something like _life would be too smooth without a few bumps._ He supposed that meant yes. 

“You…” Finn was shaking his head too as he rose, amid the general scraping of chairs on the floor as people began to gather their things. He seemed lost for words, until finally he leaned over to shove the bowl of noodles back toward Poe. “You are a difficult man.”

“So I’ve been told.” He grinned past Finn at Rey, then picked up his fork again, growing more serious. “Finn...thanks. For the food, the talk, the...you know.” He flashed on the scent of cologne again. Finn had clearly freshened up since Poe had woken, but the memory lingered. Finn had carried him out of there. Rescued him, not for the first time. He looked back down at his bowl, afraid his expression might betray his feelings. “Everything. You too, Rey.”

“What else are friends for?” The Jedi girl’s smile was light as she slid to her feet. “I’ll help Rose finish evaluating that base. Finn?”

“Hm? Oh. Yeah, I...I’ll help Jess get things in order on the military side. We were working on an intake training program for ground troops…” Finn stood slowly, still watching Poe as he began to wind noodles around his fork again. “Eat all of that, okay? And drink some water. And get some more rest. You know what Doctor Kalonia said, and—”

“Finn.” Poe looked up, and offered a reassuring smile. “You got it. No more fighting from me, okay?”

“Okay.” Finn still sounded suspicious, eyeing Poe up and down like he was trying to figure out his turnaround. Then he just threw up his hands and headed for the door, where Rey waited for him. “Later, Poe. And, uh…” He paused there at the entryway, a smile finally lighting his face as he looked back. “Glad you’re coming with us.”

“Me too, buddy.” Poe took a bite and chewed slowly as he watched the two of them go, wondering why he felt damn near elated.


	4. Chapter IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're on their way to Ahch-To! So why can't things start getting easier?

#  **Chapter IV**

_ This was a mistake. _

Poe’s freeing moment of releasing himself from obligation had given him a boost that lasted through the next two days of hectic planning, most of his done from a sofa in Yendor’s guest quarters. Finn and Connix had run interference with the Resistance members, as to Poe’s annoyance he’d found himself weak as a Tooka kitten after his collapse, although he was slowly improving with rest and food. The official story among officers not in the know was that Poe’s trip to Ahch-To was a fact-finding mission, something to do with the planet’s Jedi history. He loathed the deception, but hadn’t had the energy left to come up with a better story. Telling the truth wasn’t an option, at this particular juncture. 

He’d managed to set the guilt aside, throwing himself as best he could into preparations, and even felt rather happy as they said goodbye to everyone and loaded onto the  _ Falcon.  _ Chewie was set to travel with them there, and then bring the ship back on his own, as the Resistance couldn’t spare what was technically their flagship at the moment. It was four of them plus BB-8 who boarded the ship that evening. The instant they rose off of Ryloth’s surface, Poe’s stomach dropped and he began to think twice.

“Are you guys sure this is a good idea?” He blurted out the question, and Finn and Rey turned to look at him, Rey on her way to the cockpit to co-pilot for Chewie. They were planning on exiting hyperspace in a remote location, then finishing the journey to Ahch-To in realspace. No need to make it easy for any spying eyes to follow them, as the continued disorder in the galaxy made Resistance leaders prime targets for many. BB-8 let out a quizzical chirp, releasing himself from where he’d gripped on to an emergency handle on the wall during takeoff. The droid rolled over to Poe, bumping lightly against his foot as he beeped at some length. Poe nodded, listening. When he’d first gotten the astromech assigned to him by the New Republic navy, some seven years ago now, he’d needed the shipboard computer readout to translate. Now he rarely even looked at it, though he couldn’t have explained exactly how he knew what the droid was saying. 

Rey translated this time, though, leaning out from the doorway to the cockpit. “Finn, Beebee says it  _ is _ a good idea and that Poe should always listen to his mechanic. By which, I believe, he means the doctor.”

BB-8’s head lifted a couple of inches with a woot of agreement, then settled back as he trundled away to tend to his flight duties. “Smart droid,” Finn said, before giving Poe a reassuring smile. “It’s gonna be fine. They’ve got this! You doing okay?” Finn had been on his way to his berth to take a rest so he could be ready to take over for Rey in a few hours. Now he paused next to Poe where he sat on a padded bench, dropping into an easy crouch at his side to peer up at his face. 

“I’m fine, Finn. I swear.” His smile was tight, but he meant it when he said it, clapping the younger man on the shoulder. “Just...yeah, no, Beebee’s right. You’re right. It’ll be fine.”

“You could try to sound a little more like you believe that.” Finn had this trick with his face where he could look entirely serious, brows lowered and eyes intent, and then break into a sunny smile that made Poe feel like he’d been mildly electrocuted. He did it now, and despite the nerves he couldn’t quite shake, Poe found himself smiling back. It was irresistible.

“It’ll be fine,” he repeated, more firmly this time. “And if it isn’t, I’ll just blame you.”

“That’s fair.” Finn hopped back to his feet with a hand on Poe’s knee for balance, headed for his berth again. “Eat something, I didn’t see you get dinner. Then get some rest, okay? You’re piloting the next shift.”

“Sure thing, Mom.” Finn made a rude gesture over his shoulder but didn’t turn back. Poe laughed, then leaned back to take in the quiet as the common room emptied out. The only thing he could hear now was the hum of the hyperdrive engine, remarkably smooth and soft in a ship that looked like an old bucket of bolts. Han Solo and Chewbacca had done a hell of a job keeping the old bird in shape over the years. 

Mom...he was older now than his mother had been when she’d died, a thought that sat strangely in his head. He had only a handful of memories of her anymore, most of them centered around the times when she’d take him flying in the A-wing that had been her retirement gift from the Rebel Alliance. He’d been only eight when she’d died, and though his father and grandfather had done a fine job raising him, they’d been military men with a certain amount of detachment. He still found it a little odd and even unsettling to be the subject of any sort of warm fuss, as a result. Not that he minded Finn’s concern, really—the opposite, if he was honest with himself—but he didn’t know what to do with it. 

The urge was always to play it off with a joke, duck and roll away from encouraging words and sympathy. And that, he reminded himself, was why he was 34, single, and hadn’t had a serious relationship since early in his New Republic days. Not that Finn was a real possibility. Not that anyone should be, right now, given he was kind of a mess and had the fate of the galaxy still resting mostly in his hands. That was a serious complication. 

And what was he doing sitting out here thinking about stuff like that, anyway? Maudlin. That wasn’t like him. He shook his head, pushing up a little gingerly to stand. His head hadn’t been entirely reliable since the night of the party, sometimes spinning when he stood up too quickly. Time to follow Finn’s instructions. Food, and then some sleep, and then at least he’d get to fly for a while. 

Rey had found herself in danger of nodding off, after a few hours in the cockpit. Chewie already had, stretching out in the reclined copilot seat while she took the helm. The Wookiee’s snore was as uproarious as one might expect, but Rey, after growing up a wild urchin in the deserts of Jakku, could sleep through virtually anything, so that wasn’t doing much to keep her awake. It wasn’t like there was much to do while piloting through hyperspace for hours, other than keep an eye on the instruments and make sure all was going according to plan. 

So instead she was meditating, legs folded where she perched on the pilot’s seat. She’d gotten a bowl of nuts from the kitchen, placing them on the dash in front of her. Keeping half of her consciousness on the instruments, she extended the other half, beginning to pick up the nuts one by one. As she’d told the banquet-goers on Ryloth, it wasn’t quite like she was lifting them. Lifting implied some sort of physical effort on her part, while what she’d learned over her studies and practice was that it was the Force flowing within and throughout the objects that did the work. She just spoke to it.

_ Move. Up there. Now to the right.  _ She let her breathing slow and her eyes half-lid as she reached out to each of them in turn. It was funny, but the smaller the object, the more difficult she found this. Rocks, for all that lifting a boulder made an impressive trick, were easier. They were simple, crystalline structures, her mind sliding easily in among the predictable lattice of their atoms and encouraging them to move along the path she chose. The nuts, with their living, organic unpredictability, were more complex. People were much the same, but easier in some ways. They could be persuaded, their minds doing half the work for her. There was no convincing a nut with clever words and a nudge in the right direction. Although at least she couldn’t accidentally hurt a nut.

This one had a worm nestled inside it. She could feel its tiny mind, pulsing with simple intent. Eat, rest, eat more. Her nose wrinkled and she had that nut float off to the side with a gesture. She didn’t really need to use her hands to guide such motions, but it helped her focus. She let that one set down gently on the dashboard, while the others continued to lift one by one into the air. 

Finally she had all of the nuts, 24 in all, floating over her head like an unusual halo. She looked up and smiled a little at the sight of her growing control over her abilities, the nuts slowly rotating like planets orbiting her as their sun. Lifting her hands, she gestured like the conductor of a symphony, and with a thought, the whole arrangement began to swirl in interlocking circular patterns. A pretty trick. Not much more than that, but an exercise she wouldn’t have found possible even a few months ago. Fine control was coming only with practice.

She wished she could show Luke what she’d learned. She tried to imagine what his reaction would be. Probably he wouldn’t have shown that he was impressed at all, grunting some sort of sarcastic comment about magic knights with their laser swords, but then he would have added more challenging practices into their routines. Then she would have known he had taken note of the improvement, whether or not he wanted her to know that. Leia, now, Leia would have been openly proud of her, though maybe she would have made a crack about how she wasn’t sure how Rey was planning to put this kind of thing to work on the battlefield. Leia wouldn’t have been able to resist making a dirty pun about nuts, either, which made Rey blush a little at the thought.

She spread her hands further apart, expanding the field of her little universe of spinning nuts out several feet. They whizzed gently through the air, passing each other in an intricate dance. She would show Finn, maybe get him started on similar exercises. She knew he was mostly interested in the lightsaber, but learning some patience and control could only be good for Finn. He was too impulsive, sometimes. Like she could say anything about that.

She wished she could show Ben. 

Her eyes had been sliding shut, but they snapped open then, the whirling network over her head shuddering to a halt and wobbling for a moment before she half-heartedly willed it on. She took a deep, calming breath, stretching her perceptions out again and bringing each of the nuts back into perfect alignment. She wished, some days, that she could just banish Ben Solo from her thoughts, wipe her memory clean, and move on. She’d known without being told, though, that that was a poor idea which would lead nowhere good. There was no room in a Jedi’s psyche for strong emotions locked away, where they could explode at any moment into something more dangerous and destructive. So many of the Jedi texts C-3PO had been helping her translate spoke of this.

Of course, they also spoke of the danger of attachments. The thinking seemed to go that if strong emotions were dangerous, Jedi must simply avoid them by refusing most attachment to the material world. This, Rey suspected, wasn’t quite right, and had ultimately been part of the order’s downfall. It didn’t square with the Jedi she’d known. Not Luke, with his funny ways and fierce, hidden love for his sister, friends, and lost nephew. Not Leia, half-trained though she was, who had had enough love for the entire galaxy to keep it bound together through two wars. Leia, who had never given up on her love for her son, reaching for him even in the darkest hours. If attachments were wrong, how had those two remained who they were, and not fallen to the Dark Side? There had to be more to it.

Maybe there was a new way forward. Maybe she could forge that way. She certainly couldn’t imagine detaching herself from her friends, the closest thing to a family she could truly remember. She felt as close to Finn as the bond she’d felt between Luke and Leia, and the others in the Resistance were becoming part of that family as well, from Poe, to Rose, to Chewie, to...well, all of them, really. Sometimes she felt like a little sister, and sometimes like a proud mother. She always felt welcomed and folded in to their numbers. After an intensely lonely early life, it was all Rey wanted, this sense of finally being wanted; being loved. Detaching herself from that felt utterly impossible.

The warmth of that feeling lighting her chest, Rey breathed in and settled into the pilot’s seat, flicking her attention over the instruments one more time before she closed her eyes and let her awareness seep into every corner of the ship. She could feel the nuts still spinning over her head, Chewie asleep beside her. She could feel a conduit worm making its way through the light system in the cargo bay and knew she would have to take care of that soon, lest the annoying creatures spread and create too much havoc in the wiring. She could feel BB-8, in that odd living-but-not sense she got from self-aware droids, powered down at a recharging station while they were safely in hyperspace but still “awake” enough to trip her awareness. She could feel Finn, peacefully asleep, his presence as familiar to her as her own, and she took comfort from his solidity. She felt…

Rey caught a sharp breath and the nuts fell to the floor with a clatter, her concentration broken. The surge of emotion was sudden and jarring, thanks to how open her perceptions had been. Abject panic, confusion, disorientation. Pain. Chewie stirred at the noise of the nuts falling, groaning questioningly.

“It’s...it’s fine, I think, just...take the helm, Chewie.” It took her a moment to find her voice again, and then she pushed to her feet, gesturing to sweep the nuts to one side and then up, depositing them back in the bowl with a rattle before she hurried down the narrow corridor toward the crew berths.

It never ended any differently. Some part of Poe knew this, but he still yelled out a warning every time, and he still tried to reach for his own controls, the stick and yoke slipping through his hands with the logic of dreams. And every time, he heard Snap respond too late.

_ Snap, they’re on your tail! _

_ Yeah, I see it!  _

And then they were both screaming, Poe in denial and Snap in pain and fear as his ship disintegrated around him. 46 years of life, 30 years of service to the New Republic and the Resistance, gone in an instant, leaving just Snap’s wife and their squadmate, Karé Kun, sobbing in Poe’s ear as she continued the fight. In the space of the dream, the explosion seemed to go on forever, spreading to the other nearby ships, blossoming into a conflagration Poe was about to fly into. He struggled against the straps and belts holding him to his seat, the screams and cries of the vaporizing fleet building to a crescendo in his ears as he groped for the ejection switch he couldn’t seem to find.

He did find it, but it was too late, or it was stuck again, and he was trapped. He shut his eyes as the fireball closed in, but opened them to darkness and paralysis, his aching body gripped by something he couldn’t see that held him utterly still except for his gasping breath. When it released him at last he sagged forward, only to find himself shackled to the familiar, upright chair under him. He threw himself against the bonds in a blind panic, knowing that at any moment, he would hear that strange, hollow voice, distorted by that damned mask, coming out of the shadows.

_ Where is it?  _

The small part of him that knew this was a dream—just a bad recurring nightmare he couldn’t seem to shake, reappearing every few weeks— was almost as frantic as his dream self as he bucked against the cuffs, knowing that his time was limited. The little inner voice of rationality shouted that this was about to get much worse, if he didn’t wake up soon. It had before. It would again. He was never going to be allowed to truly get away from that room, and the moment he tried, that creature, Kylo Ren, would be back in his mind, hauling him bodily wherever he wanted, dragging secrets out of him he’d been prepared to take to the grave, and the pain would be unbearable, much worse than anything else he’d ever had to bear, and could he please just wake up before it started? But it was starting, the pressure in his head building to an excruciating peak before he made one last tremendous push against the binders holding him down, and this time they  _ gave.  _

That’s when Poe woke up, floating several inches above the floor beside his bunk, tangled in blankets and dripping with sweat so thick he could feel his shirt clinging to the small of his back like he’d gone swimming while wearing it. When he realized he wasn’t touching the ground, was in fact being held up by something he couldn’t see, he gave a strangled shout before he could stop himself, grabbing toward the floor with both hands. 

Rey, standing in the doorway, was taken by surprise by the reaction. Eyes widening, her hands lowered from where they’d instinctively lifted to catch Poe once again before he could tumble himself out of bed, letting him down gently the last few inches. He stayed on the floor a moment, facing away from her and heaving for breath, before shooting a wild look over his shoulder. He rolled to sit facing her, using his bare feet to scoot backward along the floor until his shoulders were pressed against the wall behind him.

“Poe?” she tried, uncertain that he’d recognized her in that moment. Her hands raised slowly, palms out, until she saw how he focused in on them sharply, almost a flinch. She let them fall back down to hang loosely at her sides.

Poe, eyes still adjusting to the light flooding in from the hallway that silhouetted Rey and turned her into a dark figure, looming larger in his panicking brain than her actual slight body could account for, sat in silence for a long moment, other than his ragged breathing. Then he let his eyes shut again, head dropping back slowly against the wall behind him with a soft thud. 

“Rey. We’ve gotta stop meeting like this.” 

She reached for the light switch, brushing the dial up to its lowest setting, a cool glow just enough to let them see each other clearly. Poe was acutely aware of what a mess he must look, hair tightly curling and plastered to his head with sweat, and he made an effort to straighten his shirt and shorts before beginning to get shakily to his feet. She stepped in with a hand outstretched to help, but he shied back before he could stop himself, adrenaline from the dream still making him jumpy. She withdrew her hand like she’d been burned, eyes going a fraction wider.

“Are you all right?”

“Just...great, thanks.” He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, then stooped to begin gathering the covers he’d tossed off the bed along with his own body, avoiding looking at the girl. Just when he’d thought fainting was embarrassing enough, now this? What was wrong with him? He couldn’t quite seem to get control of his breathing, near-panting like he’d been sprinting, and his heart was hammering in his chest. He tossed the blankets back onto the bed in a haphazard pile and then sat down heavily on the side of the mattress, elbows on his knees and his head down between his hands as he tried to get himself under control. Now.

“Really? Because you don’t seem great.” Rey chanced coming a step closer. Poe’s dark eyes darted to the side to note the motion, though at least he didn’t jump this time. “Do you want me to get Finn...?”

“No!” he snapped, dropping his hands away from the sides of his head as he looked up at her. Her surprise at his tone registered, and he made the effort to soften it. He even tried for a smile, though only one corner of his mouth lifted as he looked away. “No. Thanks. I’d really, uh, rather this stay between us, yeah?”

“Of course.” She hesitated, though, then stepped in a little further to reach for his water flask. She shook it, found it empty, and headed out into the hallway again. Poe took the opportunity to calm his breathing, trying not to dwell too much on the embarrassment, or on how Finn was on the other side of the wall in his own berth, hopefully sleeping through all the noise. Hopefully he hadn’t  _ made  _ too much noise, but there was no telling. At least Rey had stopped him from crashing into the floor. Again. He sighed, but at least he had enough breath back to do that.

He’d just about managed to compose himself when Rey returned, sidling in with a caution that gave him a pang, to hand him his refilled water. He caught her eye as he accepted it, hoping he hadn’t spooked her too much and trying to broadcast reassuring sanity.

“Thanks, Rey.” He drank deeply, suddenly aware of his dry mouth and throat, and pulled the rumpled sheet over his lap. He was getting cold now, shirt sticking to his skin with sweat cooling in the air, but he was damned if he’d change in front of the girl. This was uncomfortable enough already. He couldn’t stop himself from shuddering once, though, as he swiped the sweat and water drops off his upper lip. Rey must have noticed. Her lips thinning, she picked up his blanket and shook it out, then offered it out to help him drape it over his shoulders. Once that was done she sat down on the corner of the bed, a few feet away from him.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked, sounding as if she knew the answer already. 

“Nope.” He gave her a wry, sidelong smile, a “we both knew I would say that” sort of expression, and she nodded. 

“I’ve had bad dreams as well, you know. About...well, all of this.”

“Figured. Everyone does, right? In a war? I’m not special.” He wrapped the blanket in tighter like a cloak, wishing the conversation would end and he could retreat to put himself back together in peace. He liked Rey, liked her a lot, and he’d trust her with his life, but in some ways he still barely knew her. For all his gregarious nature, Poe didn’t have many friends he would count as close. Not close enough for this much vulnerability. Maybe Karé, if she hadn’t been wrapped in so much of her own loss and misery. Maybe Jess, who he knew had dealt with a rough past of her own, if he hadn’t felt he needed to be her support as her squadron leader, then General. There had been Snap, there had been L’ulo, and there had, sometimes, been Leia, and all of them were gone.

And Finn...much as he cared for Finn, he didn’t want to be vulnerable in front of Finn at all. He’d rather fight a ranthar barehanded than have Finn see him like this. 

“Maybe. I’m sure we all see some of it, when we close our eyes. For some it’s worse than others.” Rey hesitated, glancing back at the door as they both heard a soft warning chime from the cockpit. She looked back at Poe, calculation in her expression, which then softened. “I suppose it depends on the person. And what happened.”

“I didn’t have it any worse than most. And a lot better than some. Least I’m still here.” He massaged his knuckles, trying to work out the tremor that was still shaking through his fingers. 

“Do you want me to...help you?”

“What?” He looked over at her quizzically, and she held out her hand toward him.

“I can use the Force. Help you settle your nerves a bit, so you can rest.”

“No.” It came out sharper than he intended, and her hand was swiftly withdrawn. He felt a little bad about that, but his skin crawled with revulsion at the idea of the Jedi girl prodding into his head. Anyone getting into his head, ever again. Goosebumps along his spine, he shook his head and tried to soften the refusal. “No, it’s...that’s fine. I should be getting up anyway, right?”

“You still have a couple of hours.” She was eyeing him closely, he thought trying to figure his reaction out, and even that much made him want to retreat again. This was twice now that she’d sensed whatever was going on in his mind, and he didn’t know how far that went. He had a sudden, urgent need for privacy, and stood abruptly to rummage in the little built-in dresser, hunting down a clean set of clothes. The move turned his back to her, and he felt his awareness of her presence like an itch between his shoulder blades, under the cover of the blanket he still wore wrapped over them.

“I’m gonna just...take a sonic. Need one.”

“Of course. Look, Poe, just...come to the cockpit when you’re ready.” Rey unfolded her legs and stood, slipping out the door and finally giving him space. His shoulders sagged in relief as soon as the door closed behind her. He hadn’t even been aware of how tightly he’d been holding them. 

Chewie had been curious when she returned to the cockpit, growling a question, but she’d put him off, and the Wookiee knew how to take a hint with grace. She sent him off to bed, comfortable piloting herself for the time being. The  _ Falcon  _ was best with two in the cockpit, but they were up to nothing challenging at the moment.

When Poe stepped into the cockpit, she swiveled in her chair to smile at him, as reassuring as she could be. The man looked wary, and she was struck by how alien it looked on him, his face usually set in a mask of confident determination or a ready grin, in the time she’d known him. He cleared his throat.

“Look, Rey, I’m sorry, that was—”

She raised a hand to shush him as the cockpit warning chimed out again, lights flashing as the ship dropped smoothly out of hyperspace. Rey peered out the viewing window, then nodded with satisfaction, gesturing Poe forward. He blinked and stepped up, looking for himself.

“...An asteroid field?”

“We’re almost at the point where we were going to drop back into realspace anyway. We’ve got plenty of fuel. We also want to make sure we’re not being followed by any hostiles, right?”

“Yeah, but—”

“Poe. We’ll be a few weeks without a ship.” She hopped to her feet then and scooted over to the copilot seat, waving him forward. “Enjoy it while you can.”

He stood still as they drifted, for once struck speechless. Rey watched, enjoying the moment, and he turned to smile at her. It was genuine and warm, much closer to how he usually looked. “You did this for me.”

“Don’t get a big head about it. Now…” she gestured again to the pilot’s seat, and this time Poe stepped forward readily, slipping behind the controls.

“Big head? Me? Nah. I’m known for being modest. Best pilot in the galaxy, and also the most modest.” 

Rey laughed, then took hold of her own controls as Poe took his, and the  _ Falcon  _ shot forward eagerly, twisting between two slowly tumbling asteroids with all the grace of its namesake bird.


	5. Chapter V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang has finally arrived on Ahch-To. Time to settle in for a stay. The accommodations leave something to be desired...

“Okay, now engage the lower thrusters.”

“The what?” Finn looked wildly from side to side on the co-pilot’s dashboard, until Poe leaned over and tapped the toggle he’d mentioned, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. Finn grabbed for it and the ship lurched upwards, Chewie giving a startled roar from the common room. He hastily adjusted downwards as Poe steered to compensate, the pilot grinning openly now.

“There you go. Bring it back up just a tiny bit. Now we bring out the landing gear, and...see how the rocks where we’re going to land aren’t level?”

“No?” Which indicator was that covered on? How did everyone seem to understand what all of these dials and displays meant but him? Finn’s eyes followed Poe’s finger as he pointed out the alert screen. Behind them, plugged in to the ship’s computer, BB-8 warbled an alarmed-sounding question, and Poe laughed.

“It’s fine, Beebee, Finn’s just learning.” More beeps and a shrill whistle, and Poe shook his head. “Yeah, we could use the autopilot for now and teach him on a simulator, but where’s the fun in that?”

“Fun. Okay. Sure. Uh, Poe, the landing gear…?” Finn fought the urge to hop right back out of the copilot chair, to let Rey or Chewie, some real pilot, get in there. They were drifting closer and closer downward over the little islands of Ahch-To.

“Is right here. What you’re gonna do is adjust the starboard legs so that they stretch out a little more, level us out. See the numbers on the landing site evaluator over here…” Poe leaned over him, arm brushing Finn’s chest as he reached to show him exactly what he meant. With his left hand he kept the ship hovering serenely in place, adjusting with tiny movements of the yoke without seeming to ever need to think about it. Finn watched him for a moment, always a little awed by his ability, before he remembered he was supposed to be paying attention to what he was being shown. Poe was still speaking. “You’ve just gotta make the numbers match up. So, here…” he gestured to the landing gear switches, and Finn did as he was told, hesitantly adjusting each dial until the numbers in the displays matched perfectly.

“Right…” Poe straightened up, peering out the port window to his left as he made some minute adjustments. Finn knew that without his “help,” Poe would have already landed the ship fifty times over, and tried not to feel too bad about that. It was good just to see the pilot looking and acting more like himself than he had in recent months. “Okay, we’re good to start cutting that upward thrust. Not—” his hand shot out to close over Finn’s as the former stormtrooper reached eagerly for one of the few controls he readily recognized now. “Not that fast. Slow and easy. You’re gonna bring that stick down to zero on a five-count. Starting now. Five…” 

Poe released his hand and Finn reached again for the thrust stick, trying not to be too aware of how his skin prickled where Poe had touched it. Poe was a touchy kind of guy, that was all. Not in an overbearing sort of way, just as an extension of his natural exuberance. He was forever patting people on the back, touching their arm, taking their hand. No need to read too much into it. Finn swallowed and nodded, lowering the thrust as smoothly as possible while Poe counted. 

“Four...three...two...one...zero.” Right on cue, there was a bump as the  _ Falcon  _ touched down on the rocky plateau. Finn couldn’t help but grin, even though it wasn’t nearly as smooth as it would have been if Poe had handled the landing by himself. Poe let out a cheer, grabbing his shoulder to give him an affectionate little shake, then guided him through the engine shutdown process. When they were finished the two men swiveled to face each other. Poe, smiling broadly, held out his hand and Finn slapped it.

“You got it! When we get back, I’ll give you some more lessons and set you up with a simulator. We’ll make a pilot out of you in no time.” 

Rey also had a smile and a slap of the hand for Finn as he left the cockpit, a little shakier than he would have liked to admit. Give him a blaster and a pitched battle any day, and he’d take it over piloting a fragile pile of metal, ceramic, and explosive fuel that contained his best friends down onto a rocky outcropping. No, he’d take the lessons, in case the Resistance was struck by some kind of pilot shortage and literally everyone else was out of commission, but he’d leave the real piloting to Poe and Rey. 

When they exited the ship, it was to find themselves surrounded by a group of small aliens, dressed in white homespun habits, their heads covered with simple draped cloths. Poe and Finn, first down the ramp and each carrying a crate of supplies, paused at the bottom to eye them as they moved in, complaining in reedy little voices in a language neither of them understood. They barely came up to the men’s waists, but were solid, rounded and stocky and the same weathered gray as the stones around them. Their feet were the only things not rock-like about them, toes incongruously splayed out like a bird’s.

“Okay, they don’t seem...happy,” Poe muttered to Finn as the nearest one shook its finger at him, tone of voice speaking for itself. He glanced over the rest of the group, some two dozen or so of the aliens, some armed with what looked like gardening implements, and then called back toward the ship without taking his eyes off of them. “Hey, Rey…? Little help, here?”

“They’re kinda cute, aren’t they?” Finn took a cautious step forward, only to hastily jump back when a pitchfork was leveled at him with clear intent. “Hey!” 

“Yeah, real cute until they impale you.” Poe eased his supply crate onto his hip to free a hand up, wishing he’d worn his blaster. Not that he’d shoot the little people, but a warning shot into the air might go a long way toward scaring them off if things got hairy. 

Behind him, he heard Rey call out in a passable imitation of whatever language the bird-people were speaking as she hurried down the ramp. The aliens’ attention focused on her, and there was some shift in intent. They still didn’t look happy, but there was a general relaxing of farm implements, and some backwards stepping. 

Rey spoke at some length while Finn and Poe listened in puzzlement, until eventually the little aliens began to disperse. They came flocking back, though, setting down their tools and rushing past the trio up the ramp, when Chewbacca ducked through the doorway. He roared a greeting and stooped to pat heads and growl with affection as the bird people chattered at him, some waddling up to hug him around the legs. BB-8 came rolling out after the Wookiee and paused, head tilting from side to side as his photoreceptor lens analyzed the group. They could almost see the droid shrug before he continued on his way, followed by a few curious aliens.

Rey sighed, and the two men looked her way, still waiting for an explanation. “Caretakers,” she said as if that explained it all. When they still looked puzzled, she elaborated. “They’re Lanai. All female, something of a religious order. They take care of the first Jedi temple and the grounds here on the island. They’re rather wary of outsiders since I came here and, well...kept knocking things down and blasting holes in things. But they revere the Jedi, so they’ll put up with us as long as I’m with you.”

BB-8 was rolling ahead of them, exclaiming in soft beeps as he began to explore the village of rounded huts in varying states of disrepair. It was clear there had once been many more Caretakers and Jedi living there, as only some of the huts showed any signs of life. Some had smoke rising from the fires in front of the simple, domed buildings, where gutted fish hung on wooden racks to cure in the smoke. Homespun robes just like the ones worn by the Caretakers hung flapping in the wind on a laundry line strung between two huts. 

With a backward glance at Chewbacca and the now apparently amenable Caretakers visiting with him, the trio began to make their way up the village path that wound upward toward the first, decidedly humble, Jedi temple. 

“Well,” Poe said finally, where he and Finn stood in the doorway of one of the huts the Caretakers had grudgingly indicated they could take over. “It needs some work.”

That was an understatement. The hut had originally been built as a simple dome of stone, but it had been expanded over the years, a little addition on one side with a small window lined with abandoned birds’ nests. A few rafters had been added to shore up the roof, but one of them had fallen, and there were weeds growing between the stones on the floor, fed by the sunlight let in by a wide hole in the ceiling.

“You can have this one.” Finn managed to sound like he was being generous.

“Uh-uh, buddy, that’s what you said about the last one.” Poe slapped him on the back, grinning. “Welcome home.”

“Man…” Finn groaned, ducking through the low doorway to step gingerly into the single room. “Where do I even start?” 

“This isn’t so bad.” Poe shoved his hands in his pockets as he stepped in as well. Really, there wasn’t much room left in the place once both of them were inside, and he found himself acutely aware of Finn’s closeness. He turned away, ostensibly to examine the addition. It was low-slung, just large enough to maybe fit one of the sleep mats they’d brought and a person sitting up on it. “It’s small, we can get it fixed up in a few hours.”

“We? Is that you promising to help me out, here?” Finn grinned back at Poe from where he’d knelt to examine the fallen beam, the sun in his eyes turning them to dark honey. Poe returned the smile, nodding, before looking away again, examining some sort of insect nest in the corner.  _ Don’t stare, you’ll make this weird.  _

“Yeah, sure. Long as you help with mine.”

“It’s a deal.” Finn stuck out his hand and Poe grabbed it, helping him back to his feet. Finn’s hand was warm and firm, and the younger man smiled right in his face before he moved back toward the door. Poe could feel his pulse speed up, and just hoped it didn’t show on his face. 

“Let’s finish unloading the tools. Or we could stop for lunch. I’m kinda hungry, you?”

“Yep. Sounds good. Uh...starving, yeah.” Poe’s eyes tracked Finn to the door as he strode out, already back to his optimistic self after the moment of doubt on seeing the condition of the hut. Poe allowed himself a chagrined smile before following, hands sliding back into his jacket pockets. 

BB-8 wasn’t much use in an unloading situation, or with fixing up shelters that had no technological capabilities whatsoever. What Poe had tasked him with was finding a suitable place to set up a temporary communications array, and so he was puttering along the ridges of the island he could reach, testing his broadcasting capabilities at every high point. 

This was a strange place, BB-8 thought. He’d never been someplace so devoid of technology, or even other droids. Probably the most desolate place he’d been before had been Jakku, but even that had been full of the rusting hulks of old Imperial ships, and some of the biologicals had been getting around on speeders. This was a whole other level of primitive. He didn’t think much of it, but he didn’t feel right leaving Poe alone with no droid assistance at all. Statistically, the pilot got into the most danger when BB-8 wasn’t around to guide him. 

Not that there had been much danger lately. Some odd happenings, but nothing compared to how life used to be. He would prefer to fly more, but didn’t mind having less of a chance of dying. Poe didn’t seem to feel the same way, though the reason why was a mystery to the droid. Sometimes it seemed like biologicals were constantly seeking out new ways to endanger themselves, which seemed like a programming flaw. Or maybe that was just Poe. He was the only pilot BB-8 had ever been assigned to, so he didn’t have much of a basis for comparison. 

That also meant he was something of an expert on Poe Dameron, and the recent clear distress of his pilot had been worrying BB-8. He was glad Rey and Finn had taken the situation in hand, as they most likely had a better idea of what a human might need to repair this sort of bug than he did. He had hoped Dr. Kalonia might have a fix, but humans seemed to be difficult to patch. He wasn’t sure how coming to a backwards place like this was supposed to help Poe, but if it would, he was determined to make the best of it.

The difficulty in finding a suitable place for the communications array was that every promontory seemed to already be occupied by creatures his databanks recognized as some sort of bird. They were round, stocky things, with large eyes and tiny mouths, and BB-8 recognized them from a few he’d seen aboard the  _ Millennium Falcon,  _ sometime after the Battle of Crait. These must be porgs. He was leaving alone any roosting sites he found, doing his best to ignore the creatures, but they weren’t returning the favor. Every time he passed a little flock of them, one or two would peel away to begin to follow him. They moved in fits and starts, hopping a few feet forward and then pausing, or jumping back with a flap of their undersized wings if he looked back at them, but they were definitely following him. 

BB-8 paused at the top of a steep hill, looking back down toward the village. Behind him stretched a long, straggling line of porgs, all staring at him with their eyes wide and downturned mouths gaping. His head tilted back and forth on his base sphere as he considered them all, emitting a quizzical bleep. The porgs closest to him took off and flapped a few feet backwards in alarm, peeping their disapproval. But after a moment of caution, they all started forward again, one at a time. Chattering softly to himself, BB-8 turned away and whizzed off as fast as he could over the rocky, moss-covered terrain. 

It had taken Rey some time to will herself into entering Master Luke’s hut. She had expected it to be much as she had left it, but when she finally opened the door that had been repaired after Chewbacca had torn it off its hinges the first time she’d been there, she found it swept clean. Other than a few bird-footed tracks in the dust on the floor left by the Caretakers, there wasn’t a trace of a living being. The furniture, such as it was, remained. There was a chest, and a bed with no linens. There was a braided rug that looked almost as ancient as the hut itself, though it was beaten free of dust.

And that was all. There were none of Luke’s meager possessions. No books, no set of spare robes hanging to dry in the corner, no feathers and shells he’d occasionally picked up along the one accessible portion of the shore. They’d carried out their vow to protect the artifacts of the Jedi, then, and placed Luke’s belongings somewhere in the Jedi temple, along with his lightsaber. The Caretakers were true to their names. She thought she’d have to thank their matriarch, Alcida-Auka, whenever she found her next. 

Making her way to the center of the room, she unslung her bag from her shoulder and let it drop to the floor, then took her newly constructed lightsaber staff out of the holster across the small of her back and set it lightly on top of the pack. She straightened up, tilting her head back to peer up at the ceiling, not too far overhead. 

“If you’re going to have some sort of commentary on all of this, now is the time to make your opinion known.”

Rey felt slightly foolish speaking into the air, and even more foolish waiting in case there was an answer. Her eyes darted over the dim interior, waiting for the telltale blue shimmer of a visitation from those fully at one with the Force. But there was nothing, and after a little wait, Rey felt her shoulders drop. She hadn’t really expected to hear from Luke, as previous visitations had been during moments of galactic importance, but it would have been nice. Especially if she could have felt any sense of having his blessing as she went about trying to turn ancient Jedi knowledge into the basis for whatever came next.

Taking one last chance, she whispered into the air, eyes fluttering closed. “I could use a little encouragement, if you wouldn’t mind.” After a silent few seconds she chanced peeking through her eyelashes, but the room looked unchanged and she let out a breath she hadn’t known she was holding. Then she jumped with an undignified little shriek as one leg of the bed collapsed, snapping off to drop the simple frame several inches on that side toward the floor.

“Very funny,” she snapped as soon as her heart rate had returned to normal, stomping out the door. She could have sworn she heard a faint, familiar laugh, but when she looked over her shoulder, the hut was still empty. 

“Think the First Order still needs janitors? It’s starting to look pretty good, from up here.” Finn, sweating, leaned carefully off of the edge of his hut’s roof, where Poe, standing on top of two stacked supply crates, was just tall enough to hand over one of the fallen stones needed to plug the hole in the roof. The rock was heavy, and when Finn’s hands slipped, Poe staggered back and almost fell off the crates under the unexpected weight. “Whoa, sorry! You okay?”

“Yup. Shoulda gotten Chewie to do this.” Poe, more carefully this time, handed the rock up successfully. “This is a good workout, though. And nah, I think whatever’s left of those guys, they don’t really have a lot of facilities to be taking care of.”

“Guess not. Probably wouldn’t be too happy to see me, anyway.” Finn slotted the rock back into place, wedging it tightly and then surveying their work. “Are there any more down there? There’s a couple more empty spots.”

“Huh. No, but maybe in one of the other huts.” Poe hopped off the top crate and onto the lower, broader one, then the ground, then turned to watch Finn slide off the domed roof and onto the crates himself. “Or we can scare up some scrap metal. Use one of these crates once they’re unpacked...something.”

“That’s a good idea. You still got some water?” Finn used a hand on Poe’s shoulder for balance as he hopped down onto the ground, and the pilot handed him a canteen. He drank deeply, head flung back, and Poe caught himself watching a rivulet of sweat running down his throat.

_ Nope. Not going there. What, five minutes away from running the show and you forget how to be a professional?  _

“You want some?”

Poe blinked. But of course it was just Finn offering his own canteen back to him, innocently. He just nodded, taking it back for a swig before he replaced the cap and cleared his throat. “Okay, so...let’s get those beams fixed up.”

“You sure you’re good with doing all this right now? I mean...with what the doctor said…”

“I’m fine.” Poe waved it off, heading for the hut’s doorway. Finn paused him with a hand on his shoulder as he passed, his nearly black eyes worried. 

“Thing is, you said you were fine right up until you passed out for eleven hours, so...take a break when you need to take a break, okay?”

Poe laid his hand on top of Finn’s, meeting his eyes steadily. “Finn. Buddy. I learned my lesson. I’m feeling...fine.” The funny thing was, he really did feel fine. He shouldn’t have, after his badly interrupted sleep and then hours spent piloting the ship, but since landing he’d been feeling better than he had in a long while. Maybe it was the air here, fresh and scented with salt spray. Or the twin suns, warm across his back and heating the stones underfoot. It was summer on Ahch-To, though the warmth was mild to someone raised on the jungle moon of Yavin IV. Maybe it was just that he’d given himself permission to not worry about the Resistance until BB-8 had that communications relay working. 

Or maybe it was the company. No, best not to dwell on that again. This was getting ridiculous.  _ He  _ was getting ridiculous. He smiled and stepped away, ducking through the doorway again to survey their progress. The roof was mostly patched up, and they’d gotten rid of the worst of the debris. The main remaining obstacle to habitability was the fallen beam, and Poe didn’t think that would be too much of a challenge. 

No, he realized, the challenge was going to be keeping his eyes to himself, because when he turned back toward the doorway and the tool box waiting there, he saw Finn stripping off his shirt. He watched because he couldn’t quite help himself, Finn’s dark skin gleaming with sweat in the warm afternoon sun as he neatly folded his shirt and set it down on a flat stone near the door.  _ Okay, this is fine. It’s fine. You can deal with this,  _ he told himself. First order of business—stop staring. He wrenched his attention back down to the tool box, dropping to a crouch to rummage in it. 

He came back up with a hammer and nails, probably the least sophisticated tool he’d used in years, talking as he rose back to his feet. Finn was facing the fallen rafter, hands on his hips as he peered up into the ceiling. “So the problem is the block it’s resting on rotted, and the nails rusted through. So if we use a mending plate to fix the block, then nail it back in, well, it’ll hold as long as we’re here…”

Poe trailed off as he got a good look at Finn’s back. It was the first time he’d seen his friend without a shirt since he’d been in that bacta suit while they were evacuating D’Qar, and that had obscured the worst of it. A livid scar, wider than he’d thought it might be and slightly raised with keloids, ran across the younger man’s back in one long, diagonal slash, courtesy of Kylo Ren’s lightsaber. He’d known the path it took, as he’d repaired his old jacket himself (badly, but it was the thought that counted, right?) before giving it back to Finn after the injury. He just hadn’t thought it would have left such a mark on Finn, somehow. He wanted to heal it, scrub it off of Finn’s body as something that should never have happened.

“Yeah?” Finn glanced back at him dubiously, and something in his expression must have made him realize what Poe was looking at. He pulled a face. “Oh, yeah. Pretty nasty, right?”

“Nah, I’ve got a lot of those of my own.” None quite so dramatic, but that was true. He’d been through multiple crashes, including the one in a stolen TIE fighter with Finn, been shot and grazed with blaster bolts a few times, stabbed on at least one occasion, and been the victim of his own fearlessness any number of times. He didn’t even want to guess how many trees he’d fallen out of as a kid. And of course, the First Order had left a few marks on him. “Looks...what, dashing?”

Finn laughed, posing with his shoulders flexed. “Think I can get a few drinks out of this? Walk up to some girl at a bar and say ‘hey baby, wanna see what a real Resistance hero looks like?’” His voice dropped into a deep growl on that, and he flexed one bicep while pointing with his thumb toward his back. 

Poe laughed along with him, genuinely, but there was a slight pang to it.  _ Some girl at a bar, huh? _ Well, he’d known that was most likely how the land lay. Rey and Rose hadn’t been it, but that didn’t mean that Finn wasn’t looking out for a nice girl. Probably someone his own age, not some seven or eight years older, either. “It could work. Worth a shot, right?”

“Definitely. How about you, does that best pilot in the galaxy line really work?”

Poe shook his head as he set down the hammer and nails on the floor, going hunting for mending plates next. “Sort of. I mean, maybe for a night or two. But no one wants to settle down with a fighter pilot. Kind of self-defeating, you know?” At Finn’s curious look, he elaborated, tone light. “We don’t tend to make it to retirement.”

Finn frowned, shaking his head as he stooped to pick up the dropped end of the rafter, examining the notch where it had rested on the broken block. “Don’t talk like that. That’s not gonna be you.”

“It could be.” Poe shrugged, finally finding the steel plates he was looking for. He selected two of the sturdiest and stood, heading over to join Finn. “Always something you have to come to terms with, in this line of work.”

“Lots of people make it, though. Yendor was a pilot, right? He’s so old! Look at Nien Nunb, still going strong.” Finn seemed prepared to argue the point, and it left Poe bemused, unsure how to answer. It was a reality he’d lived with since childhood.

“And some of them don’t,” he finally said, his tone gentle. “That’s a lot to ask someone to live with. Anyway…” he started looking around for something to stand on, finally grabbing the toolbox itself. It was sturdy and metal, it would do. “Who has time to date in the Resistance?”

“I don’t think  _ Poe Dameron  _ would have a hard time finding a date.” Finn rolled his eyes, as Poe clambered up onto the toolbox to begin repairing the block that the rafter would rest on. 

“You’d be surprised,” he murmured, setting the first mending plate in place across the break and then beginning to nail it into place with unnecessary force.

When the suns began to set, the dual stars disappearing over the horizon one by one, and the single moon rose, the four of them gathered by a fire pit at the edge of the village. Chewbacca had been able to gather some driftwood from the shore. With that, some dry grass as kindling, and an emergency fire starter pellet from the ship, Poe had been able to coax a fire into life. 

“Where’d you learn how to do that?” Finn asked after watching him build the wood into a stacked pyramid, kindling and pellet in the center, and blow on it lightly as the flame caught to encourage it along. 

“Hm? Oh. Camping with my dad and granddad, when I was a kid.” Poe glanced back to find Finn and Rey looking at him blankly, while Chewie busied himself threading some sliced root vegetables from the supply crates onto some steel rods they’d repurposed from the ship’s supplies. Wood was scarce on the island, so after this they’d mostly be cooking over the portable stoves they’ve brought, or using instant ration packs. But for now, a fire was a comfort. “Ah. Right. Forgot you two had, uh, unusual childhoods. So...camping. It’s when you go out into the wilderness and stay there overnight for a while. For fun.”

“For fun?” Rey echoed, her eyebrows lifting. Poe heard her disbelief and had to laugh.

“Yeah, I guess it’s not much fun when that’s what you’re doing every day. But when I was a kid...yeah, it was fun! Yavin IV, it’s got a lot of jungle, mostly. Not a lot of people. It was colonized right after the war with the Empire. All old Rebels, at least at first, like my folks.” He prodded at the fire with a stick when he saw it was getting low, sending a shower of sparks into the darkening sky as a shifting log bared the fire to more oxygen and brought it back to life. “We’d go out and check out new places. Find new water sources, new animals, new places maybe a few houses could go. Sleep in a tent, cook over a fire…”

“But you had, like, a house, right? And normal beds?” Finn was looking skeptical, and Poe had to laugh again, nodding.

“Yeah, we had that stuff. Nothing fancy. Some of the buildings in the colony were made of old shipping containers, like you get on long-haul freighters. Our first house wasn’t much bigger than the huts here. We didn’t have a lot of credits. No one did, right after the war like that.” Poe stared into the fire, stirring the coals that were starting to form at the base. Soon it would be hot enough to cook over, but not yet. “I guess camping is a cheap way to keep a bored kid entertained on a planet without much on it but trees. I used to pretend I was a Rebel, you know? Roughing it at the old bases. Fighting on Endor with the princess. That sort of thing.”

“I used to do that too.” Rey brightened, scooting a little closer to the fire. The air was becoming chilly in the evening, carrying enough ocean spray to make them all a little damp. “I’d play at being a Rebel pilot, in the junk ships. I’d found a helmet, and...well, anyway, it wasn’t like there was much else to do on Jakku. Later I found a flight simulator and fixed it up. That’s how I learned how to fly.”

“I did not pretend to be a Rebel, because that would have been a very bad idea.” Finn chuckled, leaning back and placing his palms on the ground behind him for balance. “Might have pretended to be Darth Vader a few times, though. Not that we did a lot of playing. Some, when we were pretty little, during breaks. But once we were ten or so...nah, we were supposed to stay focused on our training.”

Poe thought he might like to dig up everyone in the First Order hierarchy just for the pleasure of killing them all over again, maybe with his hands this time. He settled for tossing another stick of driftwood onto the fire, as Chewie lumbered to his feet to place the vegetable skewer over the fire, laying it across the stone pillars on either side of the fire pit that were clearly intended for this very purpose. They’d been there so long that a groove was worn down the center of each, holding the rod perfectly in place.

“That must have been tough.” He couldn’t think of anything else to say. Finn just shrugged, considering.

“It wasn’t all bad. I had friends there. You spend all day, every day, with your batch, you get close to them. To a point, anyway. Because you also always knew one of them might tell on you, or might get in trouble, and then…” he shrugged again. “They’d be gone. Or you would be.”

Poe, chilled, glanced across the fire at Rey and saw the same sadness and anger in her eyes that he felt. “Do you miss them? Your, uh, batch?”

“Mostly, no. I wasn’t…” Finn paused, seeming to consider how to say this. “I wasn’t part of the gang, you know? I was top of my class, so…”

“Oh hey now, you never mentioned that!” Poe reached for the open food supply crate nearby, digging in there a moment. Where was...there. He pulled out the bottle of starfire ‘skee he’d found on the  _ Falcon  _ and appropriated for their group, with Chewie’s permission. Hadn’t remembered glasses, but what the hell. He twisted the cap off and took a swig, then made a face and handed it to Finn. This stuff burned even worse than he remembered. “I would definitely have been making fun of you for that if you’d told me.”

“Yeah, yeah...but there, you know, that’s not a good thing for your social life. They set you against each other. Make you compete. If you stay at the top, that just means you’re everybody’s target.” Finn was quiet a moment, just holding the bottle of ‘skee by the neck. “I just hope some of them got out of there.” He took a swig then, only to spit it back out in a spray. They all jumped back from the fire as the liquor hit the flames, turning them briefly blue and sending them skyrocketing up to singe the cooking vegetables. Finn, coughing, handed off the bottle to a laughing Rey, while Poe slapped him on the back. 

“What is  _ that?”  _ he finally croaked, once his breathing was back under control.

“That, my good friend, is the finest of starfire ‘skee. Comes from Coruscant, I think, and it’ll blow the top of your head right off.” Poe managed to answer once he’d stopped laughing. “Sorry, I should’ve warned you.” 

“Where did you get it?” Rey sniffed at the open bottle with cautious interest, then took the tiniest sip she could manage. Her entire face puckered and her eyes watered, but she did manage to swallow it before handing it off to Chewie, who swallowed some like it was water, with an appreciative growl.

“There was a stash in the kitchen. Han Solo’s, I guess. Seems like his sort of thing.” 

Chewie grumbled his agreement, nodding as he turned the spit and then sat back down on the rocks, cooling now from their sun-drenched warmth earlier. He handed the bottle back to Poe, who took another swig, this one feeling a little less dramatic. The liquor put a heat in his chest and seemed to settle into his bones, powerful enough that he could already feel it making him a little looser, more comfortable in his skin. He realized it had been hours since he’d thought about the Resistance, and at the same moment, realized BB-8 was approaching, a few indicator lights marking his passage across the rocky ground.

“Buddy! Where you been?” He listened to the lengthy response as the droid rolled up, settling next to him, but he was distracted by eyes shining in the dark behind him. Lots of eyes, eerily reflective and round. “What the…?” He scooted back, to let the light from the fire play across whatever it was, and made out the rounded shapes of dozens of porgs, hanging back a few meters, but their attention clearly glued on BB-8. 

“Okay, well…” he started slowly, as Finn and Rey spotted them too and gawked. A few of the porgs waddled away from their flock, coming over to Chewbacca with total trust. One climbed right into his lap. The Wookiee, with a growl that was almost a purr, patted it with a hand that momentarily swallowed the little bird creature. “The good news is he found a perfect spot for our comms array, and he can set that up with Chewie before the  _ Falcon  _ leaves tomorrow. The bad news is, he can’t seem to shake the company.”

“At least we’ll have plenty of food.” Finn ducked when Chewie roared and swatted at him with one furry arm. “Hey! Kidding! Mostly.”

They all laughed. Poe passed the bottle back to Finn, who braved another swallow, gasping for breath afterward, his eyes watering. “Oh, that is so  _ nasty.” _ That sent them all off into laughter again. Poe’s laugh faded into a smile as he watched the others, drawing his knees up to rest his arms on them where he sat on the ground. It might have just been the ‘skee talking, but he felt at peace for the first time in a long time, watching Rey and Finn trade the bottle back and forth, then Rey bicker with Chewbacca about whether or not some of their dinner was ready to eat. BB-8, watching him, gave a quizzical beep, and Poe reached out to pat him reassuringly. 

“We’re just camping, pal. This is how you camp.”

“Poe.” It was Rey, her face flushed and shining from the heat of the fire and the liquor she wasn’t at all accustomed to. “Did your mother camp too, or just your father and...what did you say, your granddad?”

He nodded and considered that, searching his memory. “She did, yeah, I think. But she died when I was a little kid. Mostly I remember going after that.” Rey’s face fell, and Finn paused mid-drink, and Poe hastily smiled a reassurance. “Hey, no, it’s okay. I was lucky. I had my dad, and my mom’s dad, and they were great. It was a long time ago, and you guys didn’t have parents around at all, so don’t you go feeling bad for me.”

“Maybe it’s worse to lose someone than never have them.” Finn sounded introspective, and Rey gave him a look Poe couldn’t quite read. 

“Maybe. But eventually, we lose everyone. Better to enjoy what you’ve got, while you’ve got it. Anyway…” he took in a breath, and tipped back his head to look at the unfamiliar stars, and Ahch-To’s lone moon. It was a night of crystalline clarity, and there was no light pollution to block the view on such a lonely planet. There were thousands of stars visible, even swirls of nebulae. It reminded him of the nights on Yavin IV, at least before the colony had grown enough to have a glow of its own. “Dad and Granddad are gone too, now, so we’re all in the same boat, right? We’ll just be each other’s family.”

He wondered if he’d gone too far there, for a moment, made too expansive by the ‘skee. Then he looked back at them and saw Rey’s smile, then Finn’s. The former stormtrooper lifted the bottle at him in a little salute. “I’ll drink to that.”

Rey cheered, BB-8 warbled agreement, Chewbacca gave a soft roar, and Poe smiled. He didn’t know what exactly that meant, being family to each other, but he was willing to give it a shot. It felt like something to hold onto.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear, actual plot will happen again at some point. There actually is no canon answer for whether or not Poe's other family members are alive, so that's my own addition.


	6. Chapter VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our gang settles in to life on Ahch-To. It's about time for a little peace, but maybe that's not as easy to achieve as it seems...

Poe had tried going to bed without the sleeping drug that first night, but after setting up his mattress pad he’d been so thoroughly awake, thoughts bouncing from one worry to another, that he’d given in. As promised, he was out within thirty seconds of taking the nasal spray. It was a relief to have dreamless sleep.

He was still groggy when he left his hut the next morning, stretching cold muscles. It had gotten chilly overnight, although the rising suns were already warming up the air considerably. He’d always been at his sharpest in the mornings, much to the consternation of some of his junior officers over the years, and figured the best way to shake the remnants of the drug out of his system would be to get some exercise first thing. It had been a long while since he’d gone for a run, and so he’d dressed in soft pants and a loose shirt and headed up the steep and winding path through the hills toward the Jedi temple in the dawn light. 

It didn’t take long for him to feel winded, but he pushed on, needing to feel the blood rushing through his body, after too long spent mostly in meetings or sitting through long space flights. He hadn’t brought the heavy bag he usually used to keep fit, but he thought he’d be able to rig some kind of sandbag that would do, maybe later that day. 

The day, like the winding stone path ahead of him, seemed to stretch on endlessly, and contain possibilities he hadn’t yet considered. First, though, he needed to meet up with Chewbacca and, presumably, BB-8, to help install the comms array at the spot the droid had found the day before. BB-8 must have slipped out to get started before Poe had woken up, and Poe knew Chewie was always up at or before dawn, when he was planetside. 

Sure enough, when he departed the path to round a corner beyond a tall rock outcropping, there they were some hundred meters ahead, on the edge of one of the temple island’s many cliffs. He slowed to a walk across the mossy ground, aware the rocks could be slick, and wanting to give himself a chance to catch his breath before he caught up to them anyway. How had he let himself get this out of condition? 

As he drew close he could see the Wookiee and the droid conferring over a compact receiver dish, Chewie holding an antenna steady while BB-8 soldered it in place with one of his usually hidden, spidery tool arms. BB-8 must have told a joke, because the Wookiee was making the breathless barking sound that Poe had learned a while ago was laughter. Milling around the pair was a flock of porgs, most of them contentedly sitting around Chewbacca’s feet. Some jumped up when he approached, backing off to a safe distance and peeping resentfully.

“Hey hey, how’s progress here?” He crouched down to examine BB-8’s work, absently patting the droid on the head as he did. He understood intellectually that BB-8 didn’t have any need for physical contact and didn’t even necessarily feel it the way a person might. But it felt natural, and so he always did it, his affection for the little astromech somewhere between that for a child and that for a best friend. He was grateful to the now defunct New Republic for assigning him BB-8, and more than glad he’d taken the droid with him when he’d defected to the Resistance. He couldn’t imagine life without him now, especially since BB-8 had saved him on multiple occasions. 

BB-8 chirped and whistled at length, Chewbacca grumbling the occasional agreement or addition. Poe listened carefully, nodding, before gesturing to the dish and the receiver control box beside it, powered with a small patch of solar cells. “Okay, what are you waiting for? Fire it up!” 

Chewie shrugged and threw the switch, and they all watched as indicator lights blinked on and the receiver dish began to move, scanning slowly side to side. “Nicely done.” Poe clapped a hand to Chewie’s shoulder in celebration and then was nearly dragged off his feet by the Wookiee’s huge arm draping over his shoulders and squeezing in return. Wookiee affection could be dangerous. 

Finn hadn’t known the hardest part of his first day of Jedi training would be sitting still and not talking. He’d had plenty of practice at both as a stormtrooper in training, on pain of punishment, but since he’d liberated himself with Poe’s help, he’d rarely wanted to repeat that experience. There was so much else to discover and experience in the galaxy, so why would he want to go back to how things used to be?

But this was what Rey wanted from him, his first morning: to get up at sunrise with her, sit on a ledge with his legs crossed, and meditate on the nature of the universe. He got the concept, but it was turning out to be tricky to get his brain to be quiet. 

“Rey…” he started, cracking his eyes open to look sidelong at her. She still sat in serenely perfect posture, hands resting loosely on her knees, and didn’t open her eyes as she answered.

“It’s only been about two minutes since the last time you asked me how long you had to do this.”

“That’s...not what I was going to ask.” It had been. Now he had to come up with something else. He cast around for a topic for a moment. “Uh...is there something more...specific I could focus on? The universe is a lot. Seems like starting big.”

“All right…” she said slowly, eyes opening as she considered the question. She was new at this too, after all, Finn reminded himself. “Think about...that flower.” She nodded down to a little white, star-shaped flower, nodding above a clump of moss in front of them. “What makes it grow?”

“I mean, I haven’t spent a lot of time with plants, but I did do some shifts in the hydro farms, and I’m pretty sure they just need water, nutrients, and light, right?”

“Well...yes.” Rey sounded a little flustered, looking upward and nibbling at her lower lip while she tried to reframe the question. “But...what really makes it grow? You could put water, nutrients, and light on a rock, and it wouldn’t grow into a flower.”

“Well...no, but a rock is made of different stuff than a seed is, right?” He felt a little doubtful about this, given science education for stormtroopers hadn’t exactly been a priority with the First Order. 

“Yes, that’s true. But it’s more than that. It’s...Finn.” She turned now, studying him. He unconsciously straightened, adjusting his posture to perfect, and Rey smiled slightly. “Why did you leave the First Order, and the others in your batch didn’t?”

“I...don’t know.” It was something he’d wondered about before, of course. How could he not? But he didn’t feel any closer to an answer than he had been before, even after meeting Jannah and the other runaway troopers, who were now working to help transition other former troopers to life after the First Order. They’d seemed no different from the people he’d left behind. 

“Tell me what happened. When you decided to leave.”

Finn swallowed. It wasn’t a story he relished telling. “There was a village on Jakku. Tuanal. It was my first real deployment. We were there to look for a Resistance spy. I mean, I don’t think he was actually a spy, but that’s what they told us.”

“Lor San Tekka, the explorer. Master Luke told me about him. He helped Luke find all kinds of Jedi artifacts.” There was no judgment in Rey’s tone, just quiet encouragement.

“Right. But it all went...it wasn’t what they said it was. It wasn’t a paramilitary base full of terrorists. It was a village full of...regular people. Men, women...kids…” He trailed off, remembering it vividly. The wails of the people pulled out of their houses and seeing them set on fire, after being tossed for evidence of the “spy.” “I mean, some people fought back, but I couldn’t blame them. A bunch of troopers with blasters show up in the middle of the night, you’d fight them, right? Especially if you had kids there?”

“Yes, I would.” Rey murmured, reassuring without being too intrusive. Finn nodded, looking off into the distance at the sky growing pink with dawn as he continued. It reminded him of the sky that night, when the light of the burning village had turned the clouds pink above them. 

“There were some shots fired. A few troopers died. A lot more of them than us, though. I mean, there were 80 of us deployed, they didn’t stand a chance.”

“Did you know anyone who died?” Rey, seeming to sense that he’d prefer it, didn’t watch him. She eyed the clouds too, as a flock of seabirds crossed low over the horizon. 

“Yeah. FN-2003. Slip. He was in my squad. We weren’t supposed to have names, I never did, but...we all called him Slip. He was…” A reluctant smile curled one corner of Finn’s mouth. “I pretty much knew he was going to bite it on the first trip out. He always died in training simulations. Always. I tried to help him, but...it was too late.”

Rey nodded, but she didn’t say anything. Just waited for him to continue. After a little while, he did. 

“Right, so...we found the guy. Lor San Tekka. Kylo Ren came out, talked to him for a bit, executed him. Right then, this blaster shot came out of nowhere, and Ren just...froze it. Mid-air. Never seen anything like it. Then some other troopers dragged out this guy, the guy who fired, pushed him down in front of Ren. I watched the whole thing, I was close.”

“Poe. Right?”

“Poe,” Finn agreed, with a twinge of guilt. “Didn’t know that yet. But they said he was a Resistance pilot. Later, I heard...well, anyway. They dragged him off to the ship. And then…”

“Then, what?” Rey prompted gently after a short pause. Finn shook his head slowly, eyes on the ground. 

“Ren gave the order. Kill them all.”

Rey was silent, though when Finn stole a sidelong look at her, her mouth was a thin line, more tension in her posture than there had been a few minutes ago. He felt the need to reassure her, afraid that her expression of faint distress might signal a disgust with him. “I didn’t kill anyone. I didn’t even fire, I just...I couldn’t.”

“I know you didn’t, Finn. We’ve talked about that much before.” She gave him a brief, reassuring smile, eyes flicking to meet his before she looked back at the horizon. “Why couldn’t you fire?”

“It just...wasn’t right. Those weren’t soldiers. It wasn’t a battle, it wasn’t...what we were told we were fighting for.” He spoke slowly, picking over his words with care. “We were told we were doing this to build a better galaxy. Fighting chaos. Putting down lawlessness, so that everyone could live in safety. I believed it, mostly. Until then.”

“But everyone else there...they fired, didn’t they?”

“I mean, I can’t swear to it, I wasn’t watching everyone else.” Finn gave an uneasy shrug. “But I don’t think Captain Phasma spoke to anyone else. Afterward.”

“What happened afterward?” 

Finn was beginning to wonder where this was going, and if even Rey knew. Still, it felt strangely liberating to just talk about it all. Mostly, he preferred to avoid the subject of his life before the Resistance. Not that it really bothered him to be asked, but he felt so far removed from the boy who’d been raised to obey the First Order without question. He didn’t even have the same name. That had all changed that same day.

“I told Phasma my blaster jammed. I don’t really know if she believed me, but I wasn’t sure she did. And there was just...I had the sense I’d been noticed, you know? I’d seen him look at me on his way back to the ship. Kylo Ren.”

“Yes, he probably would have noticed that.” Rey was quiet, speaking more to herself than to Finn. He nodded absently to her before continuing.

“So that was part of it. I felt like they noticed, and I knew I wouldn’t get a lot of chances if that was true. Maybe one round of reeducation, and that was...well, not something you wanted to do if you could avoid it. And after that, I’d be looking out for friendly fire at the next mission. At best.”

“So...you found a way out.”

“A pilot. Yeah. I overheard a couple guys talking about it after they IDed him. He was some big deal in the Resistance, ex-Republic fighter pilot, and I figured...if anyone had a shot of getting out of there in one piece, it would be that guy, you know?” He shrugged, uneasy with discussing Poe that way. It sounded so clinical now, though of course he hadn’t known Poe then. He’d been a means to an end, at that point. “It was practical.”

“Was it?” 

Finn turned his head to find Rey watching him, her head tilted slightly as she considered him. “What?”

“Practical. You’d have to have known how much attention that would get, flying out of there with this important prisoner. Someone Kylo Ren was questioning personally. Surely there could’ve been another opportunity, something more...subtle. Walking off a battlefield when there was a crowd around, something like that.”

“I mean…” Finn was flummoxed by the question. It wasn’t really a possibility he’d thought of before. It had just seemed like a perfect alignment of circumstances. He’d needed a way out, and a pilot had appeared. “It felt pretty...urgent. Like I should go right then. Like I had to.”

“When was the moment you decided to do it?”

Another thing he hadn’t thought about much. He cast his mind back, trying to pinpoint it. “I think...it was a full shift later. Ten hours. I was back on shift after a break, and I saw Ren leaving the holding cell area. He was giving orders, telling people to go back to Jakku to look for a droid, a BB unit. I figured then, you know...he finally got what we needed.” His stomach knotted at the thought. It hadn’t been how he’d felt at the time, really. He’d felt abstractly sorry for the poor bastard who’d been in interrogation that long, but mostly he’d just been hoping the man had been left in any shape to fly. These days he just tried not to think of what those hours must have been like for Poe, while he’d been worrying about his own skin.

“So I knew I might not get another chance, ‘cause they’d probably either kill him or send him off to a labor camp once they‘d gotten everything useful out of him.” That was another thought he didn’t much like dwelling on. He’d seen how a few prisoners had looked after days of Kylo Ren’s brand of interrogation. The thought of vibrant, spirited Poe being reduced to that kind of empty wreckage made his skin crawl now. 

“And I knew he probably didn’t have any eyes on him right then, with Ren being done with him for the moment. And it was just...it was like someone tapped me on the shoulder and said ‘go.’ You know?”

“I know the feeling, yes. Very well.” Rey smiled a little, before looking back at him. “You must be wondering what any of this has to do with a flower.”

“Little bit, yeah.” He returned her smile with one of his own, more subdued than usual. He wasn’t usually much for dwelling on the past. There hadn’t been much time for that in the past couple of years, anyway. He was out of practice.

“All right. Well...in any batch of seeds, there are some that don’t grow, even if they get the same treatment as the others. Same water, same light, all of it. They just never take root.”

Finn nodded slowly, although the point was still eluding him. “Like I got all the same stuff as the other trainees in my batch. Right?”

“Right.” She nodded, drawing her legs up to wrap her arms around her shins, chin coming to rest on her knees. The suns were fully up by then, and she was studying the sea beneath them. A shoal of tiny fish leaped in unison out there, a flash of silver there and gone in an instant. “The difference between a seed that doesn’t take root and one that does is the same difference between you and your batchmates. It’s what kept your finger off the trigger at Tuanal. It’s what helped you know you needed to leave. And to save someone else who needed to get out of there, when you could have come up with some other way. It’s what makes flowers grow from a seed. That’s the Force.”

Finn sat in silence a moment, digesting that. He wasn’t quite sure he’d grasped the whole scope of it, but there was something there. Something like the feeling he’d gotten on Exegol, when he’d just known instinctively what they should be targeting, and how. “So you think the Force...has kind of a mind of its own? Like, it’s making choices for us?”

“Not quite. I think it points us in the right direction, if we let it. If we’re open to hearing it. I think it led you to Poe, and to me after you crashed on Jakku. If those things hadn’t happened, we wouldn’t be here now, and probably the First Order would have won. Palpatine would have won.” She seemed to withdraw a little as she said the name, gaze sliding back to the horizon. “That’s the Light side, of course. The Dark side...it has its own ideas.”

“You talk about them like they’re people. The Light and the Dark.” 

“They’re not. They’re not even really different things, they’re just...two halves of a whole. The flower, and the roots. The plant needs them both, needs the flower turning toward the sun and the roots reaching for the water.” She reached out, touching the little white flower with one fingertip. “And the universe needs that too. Life and death. Light and dark. You can’t even define one without the other.”

“So we shouldn’t fight the Dark Side?” Finn was confused now, maybe more than he had been at the start. There was something there, something that made an instinctive sense to him, but it wasn’t quite coming into focus. 

“No, we should. Because that’s the purpose of the Light. But it’s a choice we have to make, over and over. The Force gives us...a nudge. A push in the right direction. Or the wrong direction, if you’re listening to the Dark Side. A little voice saying ‘go.’ But in the end…” Rey sounded sad, then, and Finn wasn’t sure why. “In the end, we still make those choices ourselves.”

They were both silent for a little while, then, watching as a large creature out in the water passed by, its shadow visible under the waves even though only the smallest curve of its back broke to the surface. A flick of its huge, single tailfin made a splash visible even from that distance, and then it was gone, diving under to unknown depths.

“Rey, I’m not sure I’m any closer to being able to empty my mind and ponder the universe,” Finn finally confessed. She laughed, the bright sound almost startling after so much somber talk. 

“That’s all right. You close your eyes and think about it all for a while. Chewie will need to take off soon, so we’ll take a break then. I promise, Finn, it isn’t all like this.”

“Hope not. I want to get to the laser sword part.” Resigned, he closed his eyes again as instructed, took a deep breath, and thought.

They all ate lunch together one last time, before Chewie departed in the  _ Falcon  _ and left them grounded for the next few weeks. They’d had to do several sweeps of the ship to remove all the porgs, but finally were fairly confident they’d gotten all of them. Without Chewie to follow anymore, most of the relocated porgs had drifted over to join the growing flock following BB-8. The little bird creatures seemed to be quickly losing their fear of the humans, placidly hopping after the droid as he followed Poe back to the communications relay after they watched the  _ Falcon  _ take off over the sea, leaving Rey and Finn to go back to their training. 

“This is getting a little weird, buddy.” Poe looked back as he walked, BB-8 rolling alongside him, at the trail of porgs trooping after them. Porgs weren’t really meant for walking, so it was a fitful sort of march, the creatures hopping and flapping forward a few meters, then stopping to rest before struggling on. Porgs didn’t seem particularly meant for flying, either. There were now at least thirty of the birds devotedly following BB-8, and Poe had seen maybe two successful flight attempts made in that time. 

BB-8 grumbled his agreement with a low blatting tone, head swiveling to take in the crowd before he zoomed forward again, motor audibly straining against the steep hill. Poe’s legs privately agreed, but he told himself it was good exercise and continued at as brisk a pace as he could keep up. He’d get back in shape just from walking up to check for messages every few hours, at this rate. 

There was indeed a message waiting when they arrived, the indicator light blinking on the base of the relay box. BB-8 plugged himself into the port, whirring softly for a moment before his head swiveled to begin to project the holo recording. A blue figure took shape, just who Poe had expected to see: Connix. He settled down on a flat, low boulder to listen, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. 

“Hello, Black Leader.” Poe smiled slightly. They’d agreed to call him by his old squadron commander title, in case of any message interception. The encryption was as good as the Resistance could manage, with the assistance of a contact in the Corellian hacker group The Collective, who had owed them a favor. Only BB-8 and R2-D2, back on Ryloth, had the decryption keys. Still, better to be safe. 

“Hope things are going well there. If you’re receiving this, it’s because you’ve gotten your on-planet communications relay set up. If we don’t receive a reply in the next twelve hours, or if at any time we don’t receive a communication within 72 hours, we’ll be sending the flagship back to assist.” Poe nodded to himself, willing Connix to get on with it. This was all boilerplate, things they’d discussed and agreed to before ever setting off. At this far edge of the galaxy, there was a six-hour delay on transmissions to and from Ryloth, making live communication impossible, so passing recordings back and forth was the best they could do.

Connix went through some basic information before continuing. How many new recruits they’d been able to land (a few dozen, about the pace they’d been at before he left), how many veterans had retired (just a couple, which relieved Poe, who’d been worried there would be an exodus as soon as he wasn’t visibly at the helm), and their supply streams (barely adequate, but that was nothing new). Then she moved on to what worried him more.

“Negotiations are continuing here. We seemed to be reaching an agreement with the planetary government, but there have been a few...complications.” Poe groaned softly to himself, then reached into his jacket pocket and took out his datapad, preparing to take notes. “First, Secretary Riscazi has been...well, a bit difficult. I’m afraid she found out through her sources that I was part of the mutiny on the  _ Raddus.”  _ Of course. He should have predicted that. He noted it with a sigh, casting back in his memory for who had sided with Holdo when it had all gone down, who was still around. He’d have to assign Connix some backup. 

“It’s not necessarily a dealbreaker. There are other Cabinet members who are very much on our side, while others are more neutral. For what it’s worth, I think Riscazi isn’t anti-Resistance. She’s just...skeptical of the leadership.” Connix looked as awkward as she sounded about that, and Poe smiled grimly as he typed. She meant Riscazi was skeptical of  _ him.  _ Well, he’d known that. 

“However, some people have come out of the woodwork since negotiations got underway. They’re from a group our intel barely mentioned; even Yendor doesn’t know much about them. The Ryloth Freedom Force. Does that ring any bells for you?” He knew Connix couldn’t see it, but he shrugged anyway. He hadn’t even heard of the RDA until they’d landed on Ryloth after the Battle of Crait. He carefully typed the name into his notes file, adding “RFF” after it. 

“Anyway, they’re hardliners for Rylothian independence. They’re an offshoot of the pre-Imperial war Free Ryloth movement, same as the RDA, but they’re a lot more extreme. They oppose any cooperation with the Resistance, on the grounds that we’re in favor of a new galactic Republic.” Connix sounded tired, and Poe had a twinge of conscience about that. “They won’t cooperate with anything that might infringe on Ryloth’s independence. And they appear to be willing to go to some lengths to stop it. There haven’t been any attacks yet, but there have been some credible death threats for pro-Resistance politicians. And nothing is confirmed, but there are rumors someone might have been putting out feelers for contact with First Order remnant groups. At a guess, they’re trying to stir up trouble to turn the tides against us.”

Poe let out a long breath, dropping his head back to look up at the sky. Great. As soon as he left, this started. Just the sort of thing he should be there to deal with. Like it or not, he’d wound up as a sort of poster boy for the Resistance, and he knew his presence had helped some doubters feel more secure about the whole thing. Well, it couldn’t be helped. As Leia had tried to teach him, a movement couldn’t rest on one person and be successful. Eventually, that one person wouldn’t be there anymore. The New Republic had started to falter when Mon Mothma, Rebel Alliance leader and then Chancellor of the new galactic government, had taken ill and retired. Leia had predicted that there would need to be obvious successors to her own leadership to keep the Resistance going in the event of her death, even as she’d taken advantage of the power of her own celebrity. That’s how he’d wound up here.

“We’ll keep you up to date on that situation. It’s not major, not yet, but...it’s a bump in the road. We’ll get there. Home base out.”

The transmission ended, and Poe sat a moment, glancing over his notes, formulating a reply. When he had his thoughts in order, he nodded to BB-8. “Okay, buddy. Record, please.” The droid’s lens focused on him, right when he realized a porg had crawled onto his foot and was perched there, apparently content. He paused, not sure what to do, before finally shrugging. “Hi, home base, Black Leader here. As you can see, we’re all, uh...settled in, here.” Was the porg going to sleep? It had fluffed up and huddled down, large eyes closing as it leaned to rest against his leg. 

“And we made some new friends. Got your transmission. Everything on the recruitment and logistics end sounds good, just make sure we’re getting in enough boots. You’ll run out of boots faster than you think.” He paused a moment, glancing back down at his notes. No, that was it. On to the hard stuff. 

“On this RFF business...I want to find out where that rumor is coming from. If it’s true, we could be looking at actual attacks while we’re on Ryloth, and that would just be...a disaster. We need those fence-sitters feeling safe until the contracts are signed. I want you to put a team on this. Find out who they are, and who they’re talking to. Maybe that’s something Yendor and Charth can help with. Or maybe Maz, she knows everyone. 

“Put Commander D’Acy on point for this one. Larma needs a good project to sink her teeth into. Get her involved in talking to Riszaci too, she was one of Holdo’s people. But I only want this information coming back to you and me, okay? Ryloth won’t like us poking too much into their domestic business.” He paused, thinking a moment, then nodded, giving the camera a little smile. “That’s it from me. Black Leader out.” He signaled for BB-8 to stop recording, then gestured up to the sky. “Send it out, Beebee.”

While BB-8 attended to the transmission, Poe carefully leaned back on the rock, placing his hands behind him for balance and trying not to jostle the porg that had taken up residence on his boot. He felt drained even by that much attending to Resistance business, while at the same time itching to rejoin them and iron out the difficulties. It had been a mistake to come here, clearly. Also, the thought of leaving this peaceful, sun-warmed rock and going back made him want to hurl himself into the ocean below. But  _ also _ , he desperately wanted to be back and managing this rough patch himself. He let out a low groan and leaned further back, until his back lay flat on the boulder. The porg on his foot peeped and shifted once but settled in again, and Poe resigned himself to being a porg bed until further notice. 

Near his head, BB-8 chirped out a question. Poe turned his head to the side to answer, cheek resting against the rock worn smooth by millennia of rain and wind. “I’m fine, pal. It’s just hard to know what to do sometimes. No one gave me an instruction manual for all this, you know.”

He listened to a long string of beeps and whistles, BB-8 rolling closer until he was leaned against the boulder, head close to Poe’s. The pilot nodded, mildly distracted when another porg hopped up on the rock to join him, settling down with its head on his lap and closing its eyes. “Uh...yeah, I know, I’m doing what the doctor said. But the Resistance...it’s complicated. Sounds like they might need me back there more than I need to be here.”

More chirps, and a questioning trill. Poe’s head lifted, eyes narrowed. “Who said anything about Finn?”

When BB-8 explained at length, Poe could feel himself starting to blush, and pressed the heels of his hands over his eyes, scrubbing hard in exasperation. Maybe he should throw himself into the ocean after all. Sounded preferable to being questioned on his romantic life, or lack thereof, by his own astromech. 

“Beebee...no. No, I did not come out here just to be with Finn. I can’t...that would be a bad idea.” 

BB-8’s answering squawk didn’t sound particularly convinced.

“Yes, he likes me. As a  _ friend.”  _ He lifted his hands from his face again to glare at BB-8, then glanced down his body sharply when he felt a warm weight land on his stomach. Another porg. This one seemed to think he was a good nesting site, scratching around on his shirt a moment before wriggling down contentedly to close its eyes and take a nap. “...Okay. Anyway, no, I can’t...date Finn.” He felt uncomfortable even saying it out loud, having banished that possibility to the back of his mind for so long. 

BB-8 rolled back a moment, studying him, then forward again, bleeping. 

“Because I’m his  _ commanding officer _ , for one thing. It would be totally inappropriate for me to ask. And...yes, Beebee, I know other people in the Resistance are in relationships, but they’re not direct reports. That’s different.”

This time BB-8 sounded downright skeptical.

“It just is, okay? Anyway, there’s loads of other reasons.” He started listing them, counting them off on his fingers. “One, he’s training to be a Jedi now. He’s too busy.  _ I’m  _ too busy. I mean, not right this second, but...you know, when I get back. I don’t even know if he’s coming back after this, anyway.” The thought left a pit in his stomach, which Poe decided to strategically ignore for the moment. “Two, don’t Jedi have to...I don’t know, stay celibate? I’m pretty sure they’re not allowed to have partners. Anyway, three, I don’t think he’s even interested. In me. Or men. I’ve only ever seen him making eyes at girls.” 

There was a squawk from the droid. “Yeah, I know that doesn’t mean he doesn’t like guys too. You think  _ I  _ don’t know that? I, buddy, am an expert on liking guys and girls and everybody else.  _ The  _ expert. You don’t think I would have noticed if I’d caught Finn looking at other men the way he used to look at Rey? Trust me, I would have noticed.” That made him a little melancholy. He absently reached down to stroke the porg lying on his stomach. It ruffled its soft, fur-like feathers, chirping in surprise, but then leaned into the touches with an appreciative coo. 

BB-8 was quiet a moment, seeming to sense Poe’s mood had darkened. When he spoke again, it was in softer, almost gentle beeps and blips. Poe smiled, a little bitterly. 

“No, I haven’t  _ asked. _ I won’t.” To BB-8’s questioning whistle, he shook his head, continuing to pet the porg that rose and fell with his breathing as he lay on the rock. It was something to do, something to focus on that wasn’t his increasingly difficult-to-ignore feelings for Finn. Why had he gotten himself stuck on a literal island with his impossible crush, again? Why had that seemed like a good idea?

“Because I don’t want to ruin it, Beebee. This...friendship. I don’t want to make it weird. What if he...I don’t know. Took offense? Or felt uncomfortable spending time around me.” Just the thought made him feel strangely panicked, like the threat of Finn withdrawing was immediate. “Finn’s too important to me to drive him away because I can’t just...cut this out.”

The droid’s response didn’t sound particularly impressed by the line of reasoning. Poe shook his head, not really knowing how to explain the complications of human relationships to his astromech friend. In the binary droids thought in, was there room for this kind of nuance? “Look, eventually, I’ll just...move on. And then it’ll be fine, and we can just be friends, and he doesn’t need to know about...any of this.”

BB-8’s head shifted on his base, tilting in inquiry as he asked the obvious question.

“How long does that take? I mean...there’s no one answer to that. It’s different for every situation. Every person.”

This time, the question was one steady beep. Poe sighed, not wanting to answer, and looked back up at the sky. The suns were moving toward the western horizon, now that it was afternoon, and there were few clouds in the sky. A lovely day. But eventually, he did answer BB-8’s question: how long had he felt this way about Finn?

“About since Takodana. When I saw him still alive and wearing my jacket,” he quietly admitted. BB-8 let out a surprised bleep. “Yep. It’s been a long time. But I’ll get over it someday.”

The droid whistled skeptically. 

“Oh, who asked you?”

Klaxons were blaring. Never a sound you wanted to hear, but especially not when you had just dropped out of hyperspace, thinking it was impossible for anyone to be following you. There shouldn’t have been klaxons. But there they were, and the pilots were scrambling. Poe had been cursing his slowness. He’d been on the bridge arguing with Leia, and then he’d had to head for the opposite end of the  _ Raddus.  _ It felt like all the pilots that had been on board had been ahead of him, and the hallway he was running down felt impossibly long, stretching forever ahead. 

He’d seen Lieutenant Tallie Lintra, the Blue Squadron leader, one of his youngest and most promising officers, hop into her A-wing and glance back to see him approaching. Every time he lived through this moment again, it was Tallie he focused on, Tallie whose face he saw change when she looked back out the transparent hangar bay shields.

Time seemed to slow, the endlessly distant hangar suddenly right in front of him as he ran, now desperate to warn them in time, as part of him insisted it knew what came next. He could see the TIE fighters coming now, a trio of them barreling straight toward the bay. They seemed about to dive right into the shields, but instead they loosed their missiles and peeled off sharply, flying in eerie, precise alignment.

That was the moment when the world went silent. He felt his body gripped in place, like it had been on Jakku, so that all he could do was watch as the missiles ripped through the shields and plowed through the full and bustling hangar. He’d known every one of the dozens of pilots and technicians and droids in that cavernous room by name. He’d flown most of the ships there at least once, including his own beloved X-wing. He hung there in eerie quiet, time slowed to the point where he could watch the explosions blossom, claiming one ship after another, finally enveloping Tallie’s A-wing. He could still see her face until the last instant, cringing away as she braced for the inevitable, inescapable flames.

Then he was in the air, hurled backward by a rush of heat and wind, the closest living thing left alive by the explosion. It felt, for a moment, like flying.

He awoke with a start and a harsh gasp right when he would have slammed into the floor and slid into the wall behind him, back on the  _ Raddus.  _ His body jerked hard against the thin mattress in a reflexive attempt to catch himself. For a long moment he couldn’t place where he was, the room so dark his half-awake brain insisted the blast had blinded him as well as turning him temporarily deaf. Then he realized he could hear himself panting for breath, and a quizzical beep from BB-8, and he knew the dream for what it was. He could hear. The room was dark, but he wasn’t blind. Shapes were starting to come into focus. 

Poe sat up and scrabbled for the rechargeable lantern he now knew was beside the bed, hands shaking so badly that it took him a couple of tries to switch it on. The tiny hut came into focus, and he set down the lantern and used the hem of his shirt to mop cold sweat off of his face. It had been a while since he’d had that one. At least he hadn’t woken anyone else this time. It was unsettling to have another nightmare this close to his last one, though. This trip was supposed to be helping him ease his mind, not making it worse. It used to be that the bad dreams would come every other week or so. Every other night was not sustainable.

BB-8 bleeped again, this time trundling over to the side of the bed. Poe managed a small smile for the droid, but it was a poor imitation of the real thing. Stripping off his damp shirt, he tossed it aside and then laid a hand on BB-8’s body sphere. Just a brief touch, orienting himself back to the present. “Just another bad dream, buddy. Don’t worry.” His voice was hoarse, and he reached for his water, the flask rattling against his teeth as he raised it with a trembling hand.

In his mind’s eye, the scene played out again. Running. Seeing Tallie ahead of him. Seeing the TIEs coming in and letting loose their missiles. Seeing the hangar disintegrate in front of him, and then the blooming fireball coming right at him. For a split second, he’d been certain he was about to die with all the rest of them, his lifetime of extraordinary luck finally running out. The next thing he knew, the hangar’s emergency doors were sliding shut in front of him, leaving him in the hallway with BB-8 and the person who’d come running up to help him up off the floor, shouting his name, though he hadn’t been able to hear it until they were practically face to face. Finn.

Finn had scooped him up to sit with his arms around his shoulders, checked him for injuries, let him lean against him until he could decide which direction was up, and helped him to his feet once he’d been able to stand again. Finn had barely been out of bacta for more than a couple of hours, and he’d still followed the rush down to the hangar, and been the first on the scene. Had Poe ever thanked him for that? He didn’t think so. The bridge had been fired on shortly after that, and they’d thought the full leadership of the Resistance was dead until they’d spotted Leia, using the Force to fly through space back to them. That had been something of a distraction.

Poe gave a full-body shiver, yanking the blankets back up to wrap around himself. BB-8 rolled in closer and chirped, and Poe realized after a moment that the droid was offering his own warmth. It was true, the little astromech did put out some heat while in operation. Poe shifted closer, leaning against BB-8 with a grateful pat to the droid’s head. It did help, some. 

The trouble was, he didn’t want to be leaning against a droid for warmth, otherwise alone in a stone hut on the edge of the galaxy. He wanted, with a desperation that made his hands clench briefly into fists, to be in Finn’s arms again. It took every ounce of control he had left not to get up, go over to Finn’s hut, and beg, if he had to, to be held.

He didn’t do it, of course. He waited until his breathing was back to normal, and his trembling had subsided. Then he put on a clean shirt, sent BB-8 back to his corner, and lay back down before taking out another of the nasal sprays Dr. Kalonia had given him. He’d been trying to go without tonight, mindful of what she’d said about the impermanence of the solution, as well as the dwindling stock. But he knew without it, he’d never get back to sleep. He’d just have to try again the next night.

What he didn’t do was tell BB-8 that this was the last reason he had for not telling Finn about his feelings. He was a mess, however much he pretended otherwise by daylight. Finn deserved better. 

Poe had, in fact, woken someone up. Rey sat up with a start just as he woke, senses immediately stretching to search for the cause of the disturbance. When she found Poe’s familiar signature in the Force, she hesitated, torn between wanting to check on him and wanting to give him privacy. If the distress had continued, she would have gone. But since it started to fade immediately after that peak, she opted for the latter. If this kept happening...well, then she would have to say something. Do something. She didn’t know what, just yet, but something.

At first, she tried to lie back down and go back to sleep. After some wakeful time, though, she got up, switching on her field stove to boil water for tea. She’d packed a stock of Leia’s favorite, Gatalentan tea, which she’d developed a fondness for as well in her time with the princess. Once a cup was brewed, she sat cross-legged on her mattress, holding the mug between both hands as she let her thoughts drift.

There were things in her mind, she knew, that had been stewing there since her meditation with Finn earlier. She’d pushed them to the back to stay focused on the present, on her student, but at some point, she would have to face them. After the death of Ben Solo, there had been things she had chosen not to think about. Things she hadn’t been able to reconcile with the person she’d found underneath Kylo Ren, and the trappings of the Dark Side.

Ben had saved her, yes. Saved the galaxy, quite probably, and turned against all the evil he’d been a part of. In the last days and hours of his short life, he’d become the man she knew his mother had hoped he still could be, throwing in his lot fully with the Light. She’d loved Ben Solo. She could admit that to herself, even if she didn’t know precisely what that meant, or what she could have done with that knowledge if he’d lived. 

But how could she accept that, knowing what else he’d done? Knowing that when she’d felt the call of the Dark Side, she’d resisted? She hadn’t had better opportunities than Ben. Ben had been the beloved only son of two of the galaxy’s greatest heroes, given every advantage in life. He’d had the last Jedi Master, his uncle, as a personal teacher. How could he have fallen to the will of the Dark Side when she, a junk rat on Jakku with no one caring for her or about her, had been able to shrug off the temptation?

Rey knew that the Dark Side was a powerful lure. She’d felt its tug, seductive and hungry. She’d been tempted, even crossed some lines. But she’d never felt overpowered by it, robbed of her own ability to make decisions. The choices she’d made were still her own. The Dark Side was like a powerful drug, or like a malevolent voice hectoring you from inside your own mind, but it wasn’t a puppet master.

Which meant, of course, the choices Ben had made had been his own as well. To destroy that village. To torture, to maim, to participate in the destruction of the Hosnian system and its billions of lives. To kill his own father. The Dark Side had whispered instructions in his ear, aided by Snoke, but it had been Ben’s hands, Ben’s mind, that had done those things. If he had lived, she would have had no choice but to bring him to justice, whatever that would have ended up looking like in a galaxy with no real government left. 

And what did that mean about her, who knew all that and still found room in her heart to love him, and wish he was still here? 

***

On the other side of the galaxy, in the farthest, unmapped reaches of Wild Space, a carefully encrypted message was downloaded to a data card, a flashing red light on the communications hub indicating a new message received. A moment later, a black-gloved hand snapped the card out of its slot.

The card was carried through the hallways of a curiously old ship, well-maintained but worn around the edges, to the bridge, where it was handed off with a salute to a young human woman in a sharply creased black uniform. She nodded, inserting the card into her datapad and reading with a deepening scowl, before she approached the command deck.

“Vice-Admiral Rendridd, sir?” She snapped a salute, which was returned by the older man who turned to face her. He was also a human, as was everyone else on the ship. There was no room here for any lesser beings.

“Lieutenant Preslo. At ease. Do you bring word from our friend on Ryloth?”

Lieutenant Thaeli Preslo nodded, her attitude relaxing as the salute was dropped. Some of her frustration bubbled into her voice, the only crack in her otherwise tightly polished facade of crisp uniform, tightly bound blonde hair, and trim musculature. “The  _ Millennium Falcon  _ has landed. Unfortunately, our scouts were unable to determine where it entered hyperspace. But only the Wookiee returned with the ship. Our information was good— Dameron, the Jedi, and the human male known as Resistance General Finn were dropped somewhere.”

“Well, it’s a start,” Rendridd said dryly. He cleared his throat, a frequent tic Preslo had noted ever since she stepped aboard the  _ Bitter Harvest.  _ “Finn...I’m familiar. One of ours, wasn’t he?”

“Trooper FN-2187, sir. I’ve prepared a file.” She lifted her datapad to transfer it to his, full of satisfaction that she was able to give the Vice-Admiral at least this much. “He deserted after his first engagement on Jakku, escaping with Dameron aboard a TIE fighter. It seems he rose through the ranks quickly.”

“Yes. And proved a mighty thorn in our side on Exegol.” The Vice-Admiral’s nobly handsome face twisted into a scowl. “Well. Good. Three birds with one stone, then. We just have to figure out where the damn Wookiee dropped them. Tell our little friend to bring us something more useful, or we’ll have to revise the terms of our engagement.”

“Yes, sir.” She made a note of it on her datapad, then looked back up at Rendridd. “Anything else, sir?” 

“Just...tell the Knight. He’ll want to know about the Jedi’s movements. Dismissed, Lieutenant.” Rendridd flapped a hand irritably toward the far corner of the bridge. Preslo nodded with some trepidation, and approached the figure standing stiffly against the wall, masked and armored in battered black metal and leathers, a massive slash through his breastplate mended by ugly, relatively fresh welding. He was flanked by two others dressed much the same, although simpler, their faces uncovered. The pair, a young man and a slightly older woman with a battle scar running along one cheek, watched her through narrowed eyes as she approached.

She’d never get used to the feeling of dread that increased with every step she took toward that armored figure, she thought. When she was as close as she could manage, her heart thumping with a fear she couldn’t control, a fear that emanated from the dark-clad man, she stopped and gave a half-hearted salute. “Sir...the Jedi Rey. We don’t yet have a location, but we know she’s with only two others from the Resistance. Dameron and the human named Finn.”

The mask, dark metal and ridged with a grid-like pattern with only narrow slits for eyes, regarded her impenetrably. Then he nodded, and gestured an unmistakable dismissal. Thaeli took her leave with relief, sweating as she strode off of the bridge as quickly as dignity would allow for.

She believed in her cause, in the ability of the First Order to bring peace to the galaxy, no matter the setbacks they’d suffered recently, with all her heart. But she knew she’d never be comfortable standing before Lord Vicrul, last of the Knights of Ren, survivor of Exegol, and newly revered General of the Sith Eternal. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! There's an overarching plot after all!
> 
> Most of my villains are my invention, but Vicrul is indeed one of the Knights of Ren. He is supposed to have been killed by Ben Solo on Exegol, but hey, it was a fast scene. Maybe he made it. 
> 
> The RFF are also my invention, though Free Ryloth and the RDA are both canon. Just trying not to confuse anyone!


	7. Chapter VII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finn continues to train, Poe continues to struggle to adjust to a peaceful life, and a plot continues to unfold across the galaxy.

“Hey, you okay?” 

“Hm?” Poe glanced up from his ration pack lunch to see Finn watching him across the flat-topped rock they’d taken to using as a table, whenever the weather was nice. They’d been on Ahch-To for four days now, and the weather could be a toss-up. Sometimes it was sunny and just warm enough to be comfortable, sometimes it was slashing down rain, and sometimes it was gray and drizzling. Today was one of the pleasant days, and Poe was glad to be outside after it had stormed the day before and turned every trip out to the comms array a wet, cold slog. Not to mention the old wounds that tended to ache when the weather turned bad, though he tried to ignore that, as it made him feel like one of the grumbling old Rebel veterans who’d raised and trained him.

“You slept in late. You never sleep in.” Finn’s brows were drawn together, a worried line between them. Poe found himself wishing he could press it smooth with his thumb. 

“Ah, yeah.” He smiled, he hoped reassuringly, as he dug his fork into the...what even was this? Some kind of grain dish with flecks of what used to be vegetables. Stars, he was tired of ration packs. “I woke up in the middle of the night, couldn’t get back to sleep. Wound up taking some of that medicine the doc gave me. That stuff puts you out for eight hours, no problem.”

From the other end of the rock, Rey gave him a look, pausing in her own eating. Just a look, which he returned with an innocent raise of his eyebrows, silently willing her not to say anything to Finn. Damn. So she had noticed, after all.

The night before had been something of a greatest hits tour. The  _ Raddus  _ again, only this time it had been confused, Snap and other pilots they’d lost on Exegol now included in the blast in the hangar. He hadn’t been totally honest even about the number of times he’d woken up. After jolting awake again as the hangar blew, he had managed to get back to sleep on his own, only to find himself strapped back into the interrogation chair on the  _ Finalizer.  _ He hadn’t managed a quick awakening this time, either. He must have cried out, because it had been BB-8 who’d finally woken him up, nudging against his arm and chattering his concern until Poe, in a barely awake panic, had shoved him into the wall with a clang. He still felt bad about that, but was at least relieved he hadn’t made enough noise to rouse anyone else. Or so he’d thought. 

Finn was still watching him in clear concern. “So you’re still having trouble sleeping? I thought you were just working too much.”

“Yeah, some. It’s getting better.” Sort of. He was, at least, getting more sleep than he had been, even if it was being interrupted a lot more than he’d like. He was already feeling some trepidation every time he lay down to sleep, wondering if he’d be ambushed by the past again as soon as he’d drifted off. That was going to be a problem. So far his solution was to do nothing and hope it worked itself out, which, he was beginning to admit to himself, was not proving to be terribly effective. 

“Is there anything we can do to help?” Rey’s question sounded genuine, but Poe glanced her way to see her watching him, and felt a wave of...something. Something almost recognizable as fear, mixed with irritation. He felt under scrutiny, and he didn’t like it. Particularly not from the Jedi.

“Nope.” He shoveled in the last bite of his bland meal, forcing it down with a swig of water and then hopping back up to his feet. “Sorry, gotta go send some messages.” He’d come up with something by the time he got up to the comms relay, so he could make that not a lie. He waved to the other two before taking off, striding up the stones with that crawling sensation running up his spine, telling him to look back, to be wary. He hated that feeling. Rey didn’t deserve that kind of distrust. He just couldn’t seem to shake it, sometimes. “Beebee-Ate! C’mon.” 

The droid peeled off from the solar recharging station they’d set up for him, beeping in acknowledgement and trailed by his porg entourage. Finn and Rey watched in bemusement.

“That was weird,” Finn eventually said, and he didn’t mean the porgs trooping after Poe and BB-8. That was weird too, but after several days, it was starting to seem natural. Poe hadn’t quite sounded like himself, too evasive and glib. He hadn’t looked great either, his eyes shadowed and distant, his movements a little too slow. 

“Mm.” Rey sounded non-committal, watching after Poe a moment longer before she turned to finishing her own rations. 

“Rey, is he okay?” Rey looked back at him, seeming to take a moment to come into focus.

“He’s physically healthy,” she said after a moment of consideration. The careful hedging of that statement put Finn on high alert, scooting forward on the ground to put his elbows on the table rock and eye her closely.

“Why does that not sound like a complete sentence? Rey. C’mon.”

“I’m sorry, Finn.” She did sound genuinely regretful, as she unfolded her legs to stand. “Some things aren’t mine to tell.”

“Okay, see, I think you  _ think  _ you’re being reassuring, but you really aren’t.” Finn jumped to his feet to follow suit, rounding the boulder to approach his friend and teacher. “Has he said something to you? Is something wrong?”

“Finn.” Rey’s tone was gentle as she turned to face him, hands coming to rest on his upper arms to still him. “He’s been through a lot. We all have. I think he’s just needed some space to begin to...sort through it all. Now he has it. Give him some time.”

“What if he needs help but doesn’t want to ask for it?” Finn countered, brow furrowed. “Because that would be, you know, kind of his style.”

“That could well be, but I think we just have to wait until he’s ready. He’s been rather clear that he wants privacy.” Rey let him go and studied him, in that knowing way she sometimes had lately, that he found slightly unsettling but also intriguing. Would he, too, soon know all kinds of secrets? So far being a Jedi had turned out to be mostly about meditating, but he was starting to feel...something. Some sense of the life teeming in the ground and the sea all around them. It came in fits and starts now, but the elusive moments of clarity were intriguing enough to keep him trying, even when he found it difficult to focus.

“So...wait, he’s talked to  _ you?”  _ Somehow, that stung. He knew he was closer to Poe than Rey was, though the two of them had been getting along well. Had they been meeting up without him? Was there something between them? Was he leaping to conclusions? 

“Not much.” She was eyeing him curiously, and Finn straightened up, folding his arms over his chest. “Only...in passing. But I really can’t say much. I just...sometimes know more than I should, and more than I can share.”

Understanding dawned. He hadn’t really considered before how the Force might lead Rey into insights she hadn’t planned on having. “Sure. Sure. Okay. Uh...Rey? Will you just...keep an eye on him?”

“As much as he’ll let me.” She smiled reassuringly, then took a deep breath, reaching for her loose hair to begin pulling it into a low bun. “Are you ready for your next lesson?”

Finn wavered for a moment, looking up the trail where Poe had gone. He could still see him walking up toward the comms link, a small figure in the distance now trailed by the even smaller shapes of BB-8 and his porg entourage. Then he let out a short sigh and nodded, putting his focus back on Rey. “Ready.”

The closer Poe got to the slowly turning comms receiver, the worse he felt for evading Finn’s questions. Finn was concerned about him. It wasn’t his fault that his concern made Poe feel exposed and hunted, while at the same time craving more. He kicked at a small rock on his way up the last hill, only to hop and curse when his foot discovered that it hadn’t been a small rock at all, but the tip of a much larger, mostly buried rock. BB-8 chirped a concerned query, and Poe called back to him through gritted teeth. “Just stubbed my toe, buddy. Be glad you don’t have toes. Not a good design.”

Hurting himself with a frustrated, stupid gesture that had crashed into a mostly-hidden threat seemed a little too on the nose for his...well, most of his life, really. Foresight had never been his strong suit. As he’d amply proven over the course of the Resistance war. Now he thought he was qualified to lead the transition to a legitimate government? His mood was already scraping the ground when he arrived at the comms array and discovered the message received light blinking. Great. More business to attend to. He sank down onto the rock he’d been using as a seat and gestured for BB-8 to do his thing, as porgs clambered up to sit with him. One slowly sidled into his lap, as if he wouldn’t notice the incursion if it moved stealthily enough. 

This time it wasn’t Connix, he noted with interest as the blue holographic figure materialized. It was Commander Larma D’Acy, who he’d told Connix to put in charge of the inquiry into the rumors of the RFF reaching out to First Order remnant groups. Poe had always appreciated that D’Acy hadn’t held the mutiny on the  _ Raddus  _ against him, continuing to serve under him after Leia’s death with the same good grace she’d always had. The last few messages from Connix had all been routine business, but this promised to be a bit more interesting.

“Hello, Black Leader. Home base here. I hope the message finds you well.” D’Acy smiled, the corners of her eyes crinkling over the large, pointed nose Poe had always found rather endearing. “We all envy you getting away from it all for a bit.”

Poe had to smile at that one, glancing around the desolate island as the ever-present cool wind ruffled his hair. He hadn’t bothered to slick it back at all that morning, knowing it was a losing battle between humidity and curls after a drenching rain like they’d had the day before. He also hadn’t bothered to shave for a few days. The primitive conditions—a solar shower that was constantly going on the fritz, an old-fashioned outhouse that they all tried not to think about too much, the primitive huts—were probably not what D’Acy was picturing as his accommodations on a fact-finding mission. 

“I’m afraid I haven’t been able to find out much, as the Twi’leks are a rather close-lipped bunch, particularly with humans. I believe the Empire and the First Order understandably left many of them wary of our kind. However, I had the idea that perhaps they’d be more forthcoming with someone of another species, and I knew we had a former investigative reporter with us.”

“Of course,” Poe muttered, smacking the heel of his hand against his forehead. He should have thought of this first, but good for D’Acy for having the idea herself. 

“I sent Suralinda Javos out to spend some time in the, ah, less savory drinking establishments of Lessu to see what she could turn up. I’ll let her tell you what she found.”

Poe grinned, his mood lifting as Suralinda, a tall, blue-skinned Squamatan pilot who’d been a good friend since their New Republic days flying together, stepped into the frame and was captured by the holo camera. She waved, upbeat as always, and smiled with her sharp teeth showing. “Hey, P—Iiiii mean, Black Leader! We miss you out here in this backwater.”

“Oh, I’ll show you a backwater, Sura,” he muttered, absently resting his hand on the porg on his lap. It stretched, pushing its head up under his hand with a contented coo. 

“So, I couldn’t be too obvious about it, but I was playing the poor, confused arms trader who just can’t keep all these factions straight, you know? And I was going to get into so much trouble with my mean boss if I couldn’t figure out where to sell these ion cannons.” She batted her eyelashes at the camera and Poe rolled his eyes. Right, Suralinda and subtlety had never gotten along. 

“Most people acted like they’d never heard of the RFF, and a few of them looked pretty nervous about it. I think most of them were genuine, though. I’d bet this is an organization that’s kept pretty well under wraps. I did get a couple of tips, eventually. One guy said I was in the wrong city, and that if I wanted to meet up with the RFF, I’d better be looking in Kala'uun. That’s when his friend leaned over and told me in no uncertain terms that I’d better  _ not  _ go looking for them if I wanted to keep my head.” Suralinda laughed merrily, her forked tongue briefly visible. She was used to being underestimated by people who didn’t know her military history, or that Squamatans were in fact highly venomous, very well able to defend themselves.

“But after I bought a couple rounds of shots, he got a little more talkative and explained himself. He said the RFF has its weapons sources already, and  _ they _ were the ones I needed to worry about if I went poking around. Interesting, right?” 

Poe nodded to himself. Interesting indeed. He tapped out a note to himself with one hand, data pad laid on the rock beside him and his other hand resting on the porg. 

“Last thing he said before he tried to put his hand down my shirt and I had to punch his lights out was to watch out for the humans if I went to Kala’uun. And that’s  _ very  _ interesting, because if they were dealing with arms dealers in this neck of the galaxy I would expect them to be Hutts or Niktos, wouldn’t you? Why would a human syndicate be way out here in the Outer Rim where they could get on the bad side of said Hutts and Niktos? I wouldn’t try it, personally.”

Suralinda looked intrigued. Poe knew that look very well at this point in their relationship. Once she had a story between her teeth she wouldn’t let go until she’d figured out what was going on. D’Acy had made the right call picking her for the mission, but he hoped she knew how to hit the brakes. Suralinda had more than a bit of a mind of her own. 

“Anyway, that’s all for now. I want to go, do some sniffing around. But Larma said we had to wait for your okay, so hurry up with it, will you? Oh— and I hope you’re enjoying the company. Javos out.”

Suralinda waved with an outrageous wink and stepped out of frame. Poe realized he was blushing hotly. This wasn’t the first time Suralinda had hinted she knew exactly how attached he was to Finn. D’Acy stepped back in, picking back up with her hands tucked neatly behind her back, and Poe tried to concentrate again. 

“I’ve also had Charth and Yendor asking some questions among their sources. They’ve confirmed the RFF is indeed a Free Ryloth splinter group, and have some hunches as to a few people who might be involved, though no concrete intelligence as of yet. I’m reluctant to ask them to do too much, as I don’t want to undercut the RDA’s authority by having them seem to be working against their fellow Twi’leks with us. I’ll transmit what information we’ve been able to glean on those names. I hope this is helpful, Black Leader. Home base out.”

Interesting, yes, and potentially troublesome. Helpful, that remained to be seen. He nodded to BB-8 to begin recording a quick reply. 

“Hello, home base, this is Black Leader. Thanks for the good work. Suralinda, I want you to take a small team to Kala’uun, but I want them to be humans. You stay in the ship unless there’s trouble, and stay in radio contact. Pick a couple of people you think can pass for First Order types and stay in character. 

“Larma...I think staying low key with Yendor and Charth is the right call, but I want any confirmation we can get on these names. I’ll check out the files, see if anything rings any bells, but the chances are low. Good luck out there, and say hi to Wrobie for me,” he added, naming D’Acy’s wife. Lieutenant Wrobie Tyce was a pilot, and a damn good one, one of Snap’s final squadron on Exegol. “Black Leader out.”

His mood was better as he gently removed the porg from his lap and stood up, the other little creatures scattering around him as he moved. He stretched muscles made stiff and sore by, he suspected, tensing while he slept, and thought about what to do next. Apologizing to Finn and Rey for being snappish earlier would be the right thing, but that would have to involve disclosures he didn’t want to make in the first place. He’d have to make it up to them some other way. 

He was giving it some thought on his way back down the trail when Rey stepped out of the shadows beside one of the huts, giving him a start. This was something else he was finding new and unpleasant, this vigilance that made him jerk back from unexpected movement or sounds. He’d never been one to jump at nothing before. Hoping Rey hadn’t noticed, he gave her a nod. “Rey. What’s up?”

“Finn is concerned about you.” No preamble, just straight to business. That was part of what he liked about Rey, but right now it was inconvenient. 

“He doesn’t need to be. I’m fine. Doing what the doctor said, all of it.” He was aware his tone was too brisk, but all he wanted was to shut down the conversation. He resumed his trip back down the hill, Rey jogging a couple of steps to catch up with him.

“Poe, you’re aware I’m a Jedi, aren’t you?”

“Look, can you just...stay out of my head?” He hadn’t meant to snap, but it came out of his mouth before he had a chance to stop it, louder than he’d intended. Rey pulled up short, hurt and confusion written all over her face. Poe stopped too, inwardly cursing himself before he turned to face her again. Before he could apologize, she was talking, fast and tight.

“I don’t  _ get in your head _ , Poe. I would never pry without being invited. But strong emotion just...comes to me, and I can’t control that at this point. Maybe someday, but for now I can’t switch it off. It’s like hearing someone yelling in the next room, it’s just...there.”

“Rey...I’m sorry,” he started, but she was already continuing, speaking over him while looking him directly in the eye. He felt like he was shrinking in her gaze.

“I’m not saying something about it to...what, to hurt you? To make you feel bad about it? To meddle in your business? I’m saying it because I care about you and you’re clearly having a hard time with something, and because it’s upsetting Finn. And Finn’s state of mind is my business, at the moment. And what you do about that is  _ your _ business, but...well, now you know. You’re not as clever as you think you are at keeping things under wraps.” Rey brushed past him then, and it was Poe’s turn to jog after her, reaching for her hand to turn her toward him again.

“Rey! I’m sorry. I really...no, I know, I’ve been…” he paused, groping for words, feeling lost for how to finish that thought. Rey turned back toward him, still tense, but watching him with empathy. 

“Yes, I’ve been having a hard time,” he finally said, gaze dropping to the ground a moment. It was amazing how difficult that was to admit out loud, even to someone who knew perfectly well that he’d been struggling. “And I haven’t always been at my best, and...I’m sorry you and Finn have been, uh...feeling some of the effects of that. And for the record, I have never in my life thought I’m clever.”

“Has it been getting worse? Since we left Ryloth?” 

He rubbed a hand across the nape of his neck, considering minimizing it, then deciding to go for honesty. Not much use lying to a Jedi, apparently. “Yes. I guess I just...have more time to myself. No distractions.”

“I thought so. Poe...the offer to help when I can is still open.” Her expression was soft with compassion, but the idea made Poe want to recoil. He didn’t, physically, but something must have shifted in his face or in the Force, because she took a small step back.

“No. Thank you.”

“Why?” A simple enough question, but one he didn’t quite know how to answer in a way that didn’t feel overly dramatic, or insulting. But he knew Rey had had some similar experiences, even if he didn’t know the details, and so he again went with honesty.

“Because I don’t want anyone using the Force on me. Ever again.” 

Rey blinked, and then understanding seemed to dawn. She tried one more time, voice soft and earnest. “It doesn’t have to be like that, Poe. The Dark Side and the Light Side…”

“I know, okay? I know. But I don’t ever want to feel like my feelings aren’t my own, like my  _ mind  _ isn’t my own, my body…” He broke off with a shake of his head, even talking about it giving him a chill of revulsion. “I can’t, okay?”

“Of course. I understand.” 

He looked away from the clear sadness on her face, wanting pity least of all. He wasn’t  _ sick,  _ dammit, he just didn’t want to be used as a Force experiment. He’d had enough of that kind of violation for a lifetime. 

“Look, I’m not sure you do.” When she took in a breath, her brow furrowed, he hurriedly went on. “I know, Kylo Ren...he hurt you too.” He didn’t even like saying the name when he could help it, hurrying past it, but not missing the tiny flinch she’d reacted with. “And Snoke, and...uh…”

“Palpatine.” She said the name evenly, but her jaw was tight.

“Right. But...you’re a Jedi. You had something to fight back with. Your Force powers against theirs. Even when they won. Do you get that? I didn’t…” He paused briefly, groping for the right words. “I couldn’t defend myself. I couldn’t even really  _ try.  _ I went through interrogation training in the Republic Navy, okay? I got through everything else the First Order threw at me before Ren came in the room without telling them a damn thing. For hours, which was no picnic. And then he just…” He closed his eyes, drawing in a breath through his nose when he realized he was talking too fast, too loud, his breathing too hard and his pulse jumping in his throat. 

“Poe…?” Rey said tentatively after a moment. He took in another deliberately slow, deep breath and opened his eyes, willing himself to finish the thought. He felt sick to his stomach now, clammy and strange all over. 

“He took what he wanted. And there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about that. The only reason it lasted as long as it did is because that twisted bastard  _ wanted _ it to. So now...no. Nobody’s doing anything to my brain but me. All right?”

“Poe.” She reached out then with slow care, taking his hands in hers. He fought the urge to pull away, a panicky moment that soon subsided. What was  _ wrong  _ with him? “I promise. I won’t ever do anything you don’t ask me to do.” She hesitated, then led him over to the nearest boulder large enough to sit on. He went, unresisting, his head feeling light and strange, and sat where she directed. She crouched down in front of him, one hand on the rock for balance as she peered up at his face.

“Just breathe.”

He intended to shoot back a smart remark, feeling prickly and embarrassed over the moment of weakness, but found he couldn’t. His breath hitched in his chest, still coming too fast and far too shallow. It felt like he had right before he’d passed out at the party, and that thought was frightening in itself, which didn’t help matters. He closed his eyes and bent forward at the waist, elbows on his knees and his hands interlacing behind his neck while he tried to focus on just getting his breathing back under control.

Poe was no fool. He’d been around combat situations since he was in his late teens, and veterans of the Imperial war his entire life. He’d seen this kind of thing before, many times. Old timers called it battle shock, or war fatigue. Rationally, he knew it could happen to anyone, had seen it happen to top-quality pilots and soldiers he’d never known to be afraid of anything. Even his own father, a veteran of the Rebel ground forces, had had the occasional nightmare that woke him up screaming, particularly after Poe’s mother had died. But he’d never expected it to happen to him. Especially not now he’d made it through the war in one piece. Wasn’t he in the clear, by now?

Rey was right next to him, but her voice sounded impossibly distant. “Do you want me to get Finn?”

_ Yes. No. _ “No,” he rasped, shaking his head, eyes still closed. His breathing was starting to slow, and he realized he was shaking again. That, he hated most of all. He’d faced down a First Order Dreadnaught in an X-wing on his own, and his hands had stayed rock steady. Now he couldn’t have a conversation or a dream without trembling like a leaf. After a moment, he felt Rey shift, easing down to sit next to him and slide a cautious arm across his shoulders. He tensed, but didn’t pull away, and after a few more breaths in and out he could feel himself starting to relax into it. 

“Sorry,” he finally mumbled, and Rey’s arm tightened over him. He leaned against her without much thought, some animal part of him just grateful for the human contact. 

“You don’t need to be sorry.”

“Still am.” His breathing was closer to normal again, the tremors only occasional, and he slowly opened his eyes to reorient himself. “This is my problem, not yours.”

“Sorry, aren’t you the one who said we could be family for each other?” He glanced sidelong at her and saw her slight smile, though her eyes were worried. “I’ve no practice, but I’m fairly sure that entails some degree of sharing our problems.”

“‘M not good at sharing. Dad always said.” He closed his eyes again, feeling utterly wrung out. Great. Early afternoon and he was already wiped. That would be fun to try to keep Finn from noticing. Rey gave his shoulder a little squeeze, but otherwise just stayed there, quietly waiting for him to feel like himself again. He was grateful for the understanding silence, and too drained to be embarrassed at this point. 

Finally he took in a deep breath and lifted his head, and Rey’s arm slid away. “Ready to try getting up?” She stood, offering her hand.

“I think I can handle that.” He took the hand anyway, letting her take a little of his weight as he cautiously stood, wary of the kind of sudden rush of dizziness that had hit him back on Ryloth. There was nothing, though, and after a moment he let go. A little shaky in the knees, to his dull irritation, but steady enough to hold his own. BB-8 trundled up with his porg acolytes waddling along behind him, finished with sending the message and letting out a puzzled twitter at seeing Poe so different than he had been a few minutes earlier.

“Just...one of those times, pal.” He lightly thumped the droid on the head, giving Rey an awkward smile, to which she lifted her eyebrows. “Rey helped me out. I’m all good now.” 

BB-8 let out a mournful little whistle, then continued down the hill, porgs in tow. Rey and Poe watched them go.

“Do you...know why they’re all following him?” Rey finally asked, bemused.

“Not really, but I mean...look at him. Look at them. Round, white with orange spots...I think they think he’s their mother. Or a god.” Poe let out a breathy chuckle, rubbing a hand along the back of his neck as he looked at the ground in thought. How to put this… ”Rey?” He looked up to meet her eyes. “Thanks.”

“What else is family for?” She smiled up at him, nose crinkling briefly before she stepped off. “Come on. I’ve got something to show you.”

That, he hadn’t expected. But what else did he have planned? He shrugged, following loosely and sliding his still not entirely steady hands into his jacket pockets. Rey led them across the breadth of the small island, then down through one of the winding passages with its roughly hewn steps leading toward the cliff’s edge. She was quick and nimble, leaving him feeling clumsy in comparison in the aftermath of his attack of nerves.

It was beautiful out here, he reflected, pausing for a moment to take in the view of the ocean while they traveled down a path between two smaller cliffs. The wind was fierce, buffeting his face as he took a deep breath of salt air. It felt like it was stripping him clean. He was startled when a low, rumbling honk split the air. “What the—”

“That,” Rey paused to inform him, with a theatrical flourish of her hand, “is a Thala Siren.”

“A Thala what, now?” He resumed following her, slipping once on the rocks, only to find her hand had already shot back, gripping his elbow to steady him. There were some uses for Jedi abilities he didn’t mind too much. They rounded a corner and he stopped in his tracks, gawking. 

Sitting placidly and upright on the rocks closest to the water were huge creatures with fat bellies, prominent udders, long necks, and small heads, looking them over with bovine disinterest. “Huh,” Poe managed. “Thala…”

“Siren. Yes.” Rey strode forward, hopping the last few rocks with grace before kneeling in front of one of the creatures and pulling an empty flask off of her belt. Poe watched open-mouthed as she deftly milked the Siren, pale green milk splashing into the flask and filling it rapidly. 

“...Okay. Absolutely nothing I could have predicted is happening here,” he informed her as she rejoined him, closing the flask tightly before hanging it back on her belt. She just grinned and skirted around him, heading back up the cliffs. 

“I thought I’d spice up our food options.”

“With green milk from...those? Is that a spice? Would we call that a spice?” He followed at a slightly slower pace, amusement making him feel a little lighter on his feet. 

“Well...it does have a good bit of flavor.” Rey hopped up the last few carved steps back to relatively level ground.

“That’s not very reassuring, you know that?”

“It’s good! I promise. Now...with this and some fish, what do you think we could make?” She glanced back at him, slowing when she saw he was a little winded by the trip back up the steps. He’d already blown his stamina for the day. “And by we, I mean you, because Finn and I are both hopeless at cooking.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m gonna teach you guys, and then you won’t have any excuse for making me do it.” In the meantime, he gave it a little thought as they walked back toward the main village. “If the...Siren milk is about the same as any other milk, my granddad’s fish stew might work. I think we’ve got the spices we’d need.”

“That sounds good. I’ll get the fish in a bit. I need to check on Finn.” She peered over at him, and Poe realized she was gauging how he looked after the bit of exercise had brought some color back to his face. “You’ll do. I still think you should talk to him.”

“Mmhm. What did you leave him doing?” 

“Meditating on a stone and, if he feels he can, trying to move it. He was having some difficulty with that, so I thought it best to give him some privacy. I didn’t go up there just to be a thorn in your side.” As reproofs went, it was very gentle. It hit its mark, though, and he nodded in wry acknowledgement.

As they drew closer to where Rey had left Finn, Poe caught sight of him, sitting on a low rock with his legs crossed and his eyes closed, hands open loosely on his knees. Finn was usually so up, so energetic and decisive in his movements, that it was arresting to see him so at his ease. His shirt was loose at the neck, baring his collarbones and upper shoulders and draping lightly over the muscles of his chest with a similar slouching peace. A large pebble, smooth and black, rested on the rock in front of him. 

It didn’t seem to be moving. Poe drew to a halt to watch, Rey stopping nearby. There was just something about the tranquil intensity of Finn’s expression. Poe could see his lips moving slightly, though they were too far away to hear any sound. The suns behind and above him bathed him with gold, awakening the deep warmth in his skin. 

“Do you think he’ll be able to do it?” Poe asked softly, not wanting to disturb Finn’s concentration. 

“If not today, then soon. I think he’s doing well. I don’t have much basis for comparison, but...the Force grows stronger with him every day.” 

Poe wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about that, but the strongest emotion in the mix was pride. He gave a genuine smile, watching a little longer. It was at least a little bit selfish, as Finn looked so damn beautiful just then.

In that moment, Finn’s head lifted as if he’d heard something, eyes opening. He blinked a few times as if waking from a light doze, then his gaze landed on Poe, still some distance ahead. His face relaxed into a smile, and at that moment, the pebble lifted a few inches into the air, wobbling, then spinning in a lazy circle.

Poe let out a shocked whoop, and Finn, startled, lost his concentration. The pebble dropped with a clatter back to the rock, which caught his attention. He peered down at it for a moment, lips slowly parting, then looked up to see Poe and Rey running toward him. “Did I…? Did I just…”

That was as far as he got before they’d both pounced on him, hugging him and slapping his back in laughing congratulations. “You did it, buddy!” Poe crowed, giving Finn a little shake by the shoulders. Rey clapped her hands together, smiling from ear to ear. 

“Lifting rocks. Nothing to it,” she said, her eyes twinkling as they stepped back to give him room again. Finn laughed in winded disbelief, looking back down at the inert pebble. 

“I did it. I can do this.” He repeated it to himself, blank and wide-eyed, before suddenly grinning up at Poe with a brightness that he could have sworn made his heart skip a beat, a faltering in his chest. “I can do this!”

“You sure as hell can.” Poe slapped hands with him, side to side, returning the wide grin. “You’re gonna be a Jedi.” 

“I’m gonna be a Jedi.” That was to Rey, and it shifted upward at the end, almost a question. She laughed in return, but kindly.

“That’s the idea.” 

***

In his quarters aboard the cruiser  _ Bitter Harvest _ , Vice-Admiral  Jovhar Rendridd was fuming. The newest intelligence report from Ryloth had once again provided almost nothing. He could feel the chance to do something truly great for the rebirth of the First Order slipping through his fingers, and it made him pace the room, hands behind his back to keep himself from throwing something.

It was madness that the upstart Resistance had been able to defeat them on Exegol. He had been there himself, barely surviving the crash of his ship when the command ship had been destroyed. Nothing should have been able to touch the Emperor’s sacred fleet. Nothing should have been able to destroy Starkiller base, or a First Order Dreadnaught, or Snoke’s flagship, or escape from the attack on Crait. And yet, here they were.

He knew the man he was looking for, the so-called General Poe Dameron, was present at every one of those defeats, and usually instrumental to them. He’d been very useful to the traitorous Leia Organa, and since he could no longer hurt her, well...Dameron would make a decent substitute, and of course the most powerful sort of leverage against their enemies. Getting the Jedi and the traitor FN-2187, the ungrateful whelp, would make for an excellent bonus. The opportunity was perfect, if they were truly alone out there, and all he lacked was a bloody location. 

Rendridd cleared his throat, then abruptly lunged to the side, seizing the chair at his desk and hurling it to the ground with a tremendous clang. To his shame and horror, he felt a lump rising in his throat, tears stinging the corners of his eyes. But no, there was nothing to be ashamed about in the passionate devotion he felt for his true homeland, the Empire of old. 

He’d been a raw recruit fresh out of the Academy when the Battle of Endor had crushed his dreams. He should have been retired by now, with a generous Imperial pension after a lifetime of service to his Emperor. But here he was, after decades spent lurking on backwater planets, training and scraping by with the few other loyal remnants of past glory, wasting the resources of an entire cruiser class ship and a crew of almost 70 trying to find three people in all the galaxy. How the mighty had fallen. 

For a few glorious years, they had been on the cusp of rebuilding what had been lost, even making it better. Bigger, stronger, more powerful than ever before. The enormous, awe-inspiring beauty that had been Starkiller Base finally destroying the last gasp of the pathetic Republic had been everything he could have hoped for to erase the image of the second Death Star crumbling into ruins before his eyes. Then Dameron and his mongrel crew had destroyed that too.

Dashing his sleeve over his eyes, Rendridd seized the comms receiver off the desk and spoke into it, rage simmering under every word. “Preslo. Send out the scouts. Bring me our little snake-head informant. I think the time has come to have a chat.” He cleared his throat. “Face to face.” Without waiting for her response, he slammed the receiver back down. He would get answers even if he needed to get his own hands bloody doing it. It had been far too long since he’d had that opportunity.

***

“Soup’s on!” Poe clanged the ladle against the iron kettle the Caretakers had doubtfully loaned them, chattering instructions at Rey as she tried to reassure them that they’d get their pot back in one piece. He’d given the stew a taste and, though it hadn’t been exactly how he’d remembered his grandfather’s version, along with being an unsettling pale green, he thought it was more than passable. Rey and Finn looked dubious as he served them bowlfuls, then gestured for the little nuns lurking nearby to watch. They seemed to brighten, waddling forward to accept borrowed wooden bowls. There had been plenty of the stuff, so why not share the bounty? It wasn’t as if they had refrigeration.

Rey brightened after she’d tasted it, lifting the bowl to her lips for a cautious sip. “This really isn’t bad.”

“Such glowing praise. Stop, you’ll make me blush.” He grinned as he turned to glance back at the others between ladling out bowls. He was already red-faced, to be fair, but that was from standing over the heat of the fire they’d been able to scrape together. The Caretakers had shown them how to gather Thala Siren droppings down by the shore, and it turned out to be excellent fuel, if a little peculiar-smelling. Not bad, precisely, but something like a strong seaweed scent. It didn’t clash too badly with the fish, an enormous thing that Rey had spearfished while hanging from a cliff, to Poe’s awe. It had taken half the day to gut and clean it, a process Finn had seemed to find appalling every step of the way. 

“I like it!” Finn declared after a swallow, before he grabbed a spoon and settled on one of the rocks around the fire. Poe filled his own bowl and set it aside before doling out the last of the stew to the Caretakers present. They bobbed their appreciative little bows to him before wandering away, murmuring amongst themselves and drinking directly from their bowls. At least they were getting more friendly than they had been when the trio had arrived.

“Thanks, buddy.” Poe picked up his bowl to join them, Rey sitting now also, and dug in. It really wasn’t bad, the fish sweet and firm, the milk a little briny but rich with cream. He’d given it enough spice to have some heat without being overwhelming, he thought. The other two didn’t seem to mind, eating with enthusiasm. They were all still riding a high from Finn’s success earlier, though Poe’s energy was starting to wane. His earlier episode had left him feeling like he’d swum a few miles, and he just hoped that meant he’d be tired enough to sleep well later. Just the thought of sleep, though, gave him a little flare of alarm. He shoved it aside for later.

“So what do we do next? More meditation? More making rocks move? I definitely got a couple more to wiggle today. No more lifts, but that’s gotta count for something, right?” Finn was talking with his mouth full, grabbing for a slice of bread to sop up some stew with. That was just regulation ration bread right out of the vacuum pack and activated with water, but you couldn’t have everything. “Lightsabers? When do we get to lightsabers?”

Rey laughed, covering her mouth with one hand, but finished chewing and swallowing before she answered. “Slow down, you’ve only just begun! We can start adding some form drills, and I expect you’ll have a head start with your weapons training, but real lightsabers will be a bit yet.”

“That’s all right.” Finn nodded, his enthusiasm undimmed. “And all those crazy jumps? We’ll get to that soon too? So I can be all….yaaaah….” He mimed tumbling with his hands with the half-voiced battle cry, then waved an invisible lightsaber, eyes wide. Rey nearly doubled over laughing, and Poe chuckled, watching them both. 

“Yes,” Rey finally managed, “you’ll be learning the jumps as well.” She picked her bowl up again to bring it under her chin while she took another bite, grinning. 

“Man, that is  _ so  _ excellent.” Finn grinned back at her. “Thank you for this, Rey.”

“Finn, you’re the one doing the work. I can’t give this as a gift to you, you have to have it to begin with. You’re just lucky enough to be like this. Like us.” She gestured between them, a flowing hand that somehow indicated all that passed around them, through the Force. Poe found himself, for a moment, a little sorry that he couldn’t sense what they could. He knew from speaking to Leia about it that the Force did indeed flow through all things, all beings, but he wasn’t one of the lucky few who could sense it. The only time he’d ever gotten an inkling of what that must be like was when he was flying, when he indeed did always seem to know just what to do. But that was its own luck.

“Yeah! I’m so...I do feel lucky. Like this is...this huge gift.” Finn seemed lit from within, while Poe watched him from across the fire. “Today, feeling that rock start to lift, I just felt like...I wish everyone in the universe could feel like this.” He blinked, then looked across at Poe. “No offense.”

“None taken.” He meant it. Poe lifted the bottle of sunfruit liquor he’d just reached for. Not as deadly as ‘skee, but plenty powerful. There was more than one way to make sure he got to sleep tonight. “May the Force be with you. Now, who wants a drink?”


	8. Chapter VIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They’d all had an excellent time, at least until the very end of the night. Finn had seen Rey home first, the Jedi tipsy and giggling. Then he’d come back for Poe, as he’d been trying to get the fire fully extinguished. Finn had gripped the back of his jacket and tugged him back from the embers he’d been about to douse with water, catching him with a strong arm when he’d stumbled. “Hey…”
> 
> “C’mon, buddy, I don’t think you should be playing with fire right now. For one thing, that’s not water.” 
> 
> Poe had looked down at the bottle in his hands. Whoops. That was indeed the end of the sunfruit liquor, which would not have made a very good fire extinguisher. Well, better not let it go to waste. He tilted his head back and tossed back the last of it, to which Finn sighed, although not without amusement. 
> 
> “Okay, that probably also wasn’t a great idea.” Finn sounded at least a little drunk himself, but considerably more sober than Poe. “Let’s get you home. C’mon, put your arm over my shoulders...there you go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone is social distancing and staying well!
> 
> This one has some violence/a mild scene of torture of a minor character in it. Sorry, bad guys gotta bad guy. If you'd rather skip or skim that scene, it's the one in the middle with three asterisks (***) before and after it.
> 
> Also, trying out a new thing with using an excerpt as a chapter summary, because it definitely works on me when other people do it. Enjoy!

“Ow.”

That was Poe’s one thought, on cracking his eyes open the next morning to find sunlight flooding in his window. He squinted against the light, then twisted to hunt for his datapad to check the time. It was...somewhere. Surely. He sat up with care, head throbbing, and then realized he was still in his clothes from the night before, smelling of smoke and the sea. Noticing this immediately made him nauseous. 

Also, his mouth tasted like something had died in it. He did find his water flask, taking a cautious swig. Then he nearly choked on it when something moved in the corner of the hut where nothing should have been moving. Sputtering, he capped the water and then stared blankly at a trio of porgs, blinking back at him. How had they...oh. Right. The window, which was really just a hole in the wall. He’d need to do something about that.

He hadn’t even tried standing up yet, and this already felt like the worst hangover he’d had in...probably years. No, wait, he’d had a similar one after the victory party post-Exegol, but at least he’d known he was far from the only one in that predicament, that time. Virtually the entire Resistance had been immobile the day after that one. He tried a little more water, then decided to see how that sat in his stomach before he dared do anything wild like eating a piece of instant bread with nothing on it.

Still couldn’t find the datapad. He finally eased to his feet to go to where his jacket had wound up on the floor, searching the pockets and finally coming up victorious. He winced when he saw the time, but at least it was still, technically, morning. Now if only he could remember exactly how the end of the night had gone, he might be in all right shape. After a shower, and brushing his teeth. Twice.

Fervently hoping the med kit they’d brought along had some effective painkillers, he grabbed a towel and his bathing kit and slunk out of the hut, shooing the porgs out in front of him. He was halfway to the solar shower they’d set up in a secluded corner between tall rock promontories when his memory came back to him. He had to stop and groan, eyes squeezing closed.

_They’d all had an excellent time, at least until the very end of the night. Finn had seen Rey home first, the Jedi tipsy and giggling. Then he’d come back for Poe, as he’d been trying to get the fire fully extinguished. Finn had gripped the back of his jacket and tugged him back from the embers he’d been about to douse with water, catching him with a strong arm when he’d stumbled. “Hey…”_

_“C’mon, buddy, I don’t think you should be playing with fire right now. For one thing, that’s not water.”_

_Poe had looked down at the bottle in his hands. Whoops. That was indeed the end of the sunfruit liquor, which would not have made a very good fire extinguisher. Well, better not let it go to waste. He tilted his head back and tossed back the last of it, to which Finn sighed, although not without amusement._

_“Okay, that probably also wasn’t a great idea.” Finn sounded at least a little drunk himself, but considerably more sober than Poe. “Let’s get you home. C’mon, put your arm over my shoulders...there you go.”_

_Poe leaned comfortably against Finn as the younger man guided him away from the fire pit, looking up to eye the stars as he walked. At least, until he tripped and Finn had to lunge to catch him again, both of them laughing. “Poe! Come on, focus.” Finn tried a couple of times to snap his fingers, before finally giving up and just pointing down. “Eyes on your feet. So you don’t trip. I’m not gonna carry you.” He did put his arm around Poe’s waist to steady him, though. Poe tried very hard not to notice that too much._

_“The stars are really pretty out here. Real pretty,” he’d protested, pointing up. When Finn refused to look, focused on trying to move them forward, Poe reached out to physically tip his chin up with one hand. He sighed but humored the pilot, looking up. They both stood there for a quiet moment, looking up and admiring the unfamiliar constellations._

_“This’s what the stars were like when I was a kid. Yavin IV. No lights, right? Not really. Not enough people. You go someplace like Corsca...Coruscant, you won’t see any stars at all.” Poe peered at Finn, trying to gauge if he really got it. “You know? Too many lights.”_

_“That so?” Finn was quiet a moment, looking up at the stars on his own, now. “Wish I knew what the stars look like where I come from.”_

_Poe was lost for what to say or do for a few seconds, then gave Finn an encouraging little shake with the arm across his shoulders. “Bet we could find out. Someday. If you want, I mean. First Order...Imperials...they love their paperwork. It’s out there, you know? The answer.”_

_“Maybe.”_

_He squinted at Finn, unsure what to make of the tone. “Do you...want to know? Where you came from? About your family?”_

_“That depends on if I was taken, or if they sold me.” Finn looked back at him, uncharacteristically serious. “And I don’t know that, either.”_

_“I’m sorry.” It was inadequate, but he didn’t know what else to say. Finn just nodded, and gently nudged him into walking again. Poe was more careful this time, watching his feet with the exaggerated care of the truly drunk while Finn talked._

_“It’s okay. It...really, I don’t think about it much. Guess I get a little jealous hearing other people talk about where they grew up, their families...just something I don’t have, you know? Whole...part of who I am, just missing.”_

_Poe felt terribly sad, listening to that. He gave Finn a squeeze across the shoulders, which did make both of them stumble a little, but it was the thought that counted. “Screw the First Order.”_

_“Screw them! Screw Brendol Hux in particular.” Finn enunciated the name carefully, and Poe nodded along._

_“‘Sright, it was General Hugs’s dad that set up that whole program, right?”_

_“Yup. Met him a few times. Well...was in the same room with him. Creepy guy. Like father, like son.”_

_“Screw that guy. Screw his son too. Not,” Poe added, nose wrinkling and tone darkening, “that I would want to.”_

_“Man, who would?” Finn snickered. “You ever see that guy in person, besides when he broke us out? There are mynocks out there with more charisma.” It was just slurred enough to sound more like “krisma”, but Poe understood._

_“Oh, we met.” Poe laughed, but it had a hard edge to it. Finn looked sidelong at him but didn’t press it. He, of all people, could guess when Poe and Armitage Hux might have crossed paths. “Nasty little...cave lizard.”_

_That made Finn laugh, although part of that might have been Poe’s very careful enunciation. It felt good to make Finn laugh. It also felt very, very good to be walking with Finn’s arm around his waist, with his arm around Finn’s shoulders. That, in turn, made him feel melancholy. But wait, Finn was asking him something. “Hm?”_

_“I said...are you and Rey a...what, a thing?”_

_Poe pulled up short at that, swaying a little and blinking. “A thing?”_

_“You know. Seeing each other. Uh...romantically.” It was impossible to tell if Finn was blushing, between his skin tone and the darkness. He sounded like it, though, and Poe caught himself staring. Finally he just laughed, short and astonished._

_“What? No. No, not at all. She’s...she’s great, but no.”_

_“Oh! Okay. I just...I wondered, you’ve been hanging out with her more, and she seemed to know some...no, no. Never mind.” Finn gave him a little nudge forward, but Poe wasn’t ready to start walking again._

_“No, she’s just...I dunno. A good friend. She’s been...helpful lately. Why?” He peered at Finn, brow furrowed. For a second, almost hopeful. Then the more obvious explanation occurred to him. “You change your mind about...you know, trying with her?”_

_“No.” Finn smiled a little at that, and shrugged, glancing away. Nothing more than that, though. Poe’s heart sank, just a little. He hadn’t really thought Finn was about to make any other sort of declaration of interest, but hope was a stubborn thing. “Just curious. Uh...helpful with what?”_

_“Just…” Poe waved his free hand, beginning to walk carefully forward again. The ground to his right seemed to be getting closer and closer, until Finn’s grip around his waist tightened and straightened him up again. “Oh! That’s better. You know, just...things.”_

_“Mm, not sure I do know. Poe, stop...nope, now you’re going the other way.” Finn, chuckling, shoved up under Poe’s arm, settling it more securely over his shoulders and then gripping Poe’s wrist with his free hand to keep it there. “What kind of things?”_

_Poe sighed, throwing his head back to look at the sky again. It wasn’t like watching his feet seemed to actually be keeping him any more stable. “Ah, Finn...I didn’t wanna talk to you about that.”_

_“Why not?” To Poe’s surprise, Finn sounded wounded. He peered over at the other man, their heads so close together now he could see the faintest stubble on Finn’s normally meticulously clean-shaven jaw. It was such a good jawline. It would be so nice to kiss the corner of that jaw. Poe, realizing he was leaning that way, hastily put a stop to that train of thought, focusing back on what Finn was actually saying. “I mean...if you can talk to Rey about whatever it is…”_

_Poe had no idea how to answer that without giving his feelings away, and one thing he was lucid enough to know was that if he ever did talk to Finn about that, he most decidedly did not want it to be while he was out of his head on sunfruit liquor and Finn was helping him stumble home. “I mean...I didn’t really wanna talk to anyone about it. Then Rey was just...there.”_

_“Don’t you trust me?”_

_Poe stopped again at that. They were almost to his hut, pausing in a pool of moonlight when he turned to face Finn, serious and trying as hard as he could to be steady on his feet and in his tone. “Of course l do. I trust you more than anyone.”_

_“Then why are you keeping secrets? Don’t...don’t say you aren’t, you’re not being that subtle. I know something’s wrong.” Finn let go of his hand to wave a finger at him. They slid almost apart to face each other fully, Poe’s hand just resting on Finn’s shoulder for balance._

_“Because I…” He paused there, swallowing hard. For an instant, the true, full answer almost crossed his lips, despite what he’d just sworn to himself. But no, he went with the next highest level of honesty, still raw enough to hurt. “I want you to respect me.”_

_“Poe...of course I respect you.” Finn looked perplexed, resting his hand on Poe’s forearm where it was braced against him. “Why wouldn’t I respect you?”_

_“Because,” Poe said, then paused, considering through his muddy thoughts how he might put this. “‘M pretty sure I’m losing my mind.”_

_Finn was already shaking his head. “Poe, I really don’t think—”_

_“No. No, I am, it’s…” He laughed, and even to his own ears there was something a little bit wild about it, a little bit desperate. “You have no idea.”_

_“No, I don’t, because you won’t talk to me!” The frustration rose in Finn’s voice. Poe released his grip on him, turning away to get himself a moment of thought and relief from that accusation. He took a few steps toward the hut before he stumbled, and Finn caught him yet again, this time with a less gentle hand hooking the back of the neck of his jacket to haul him up. “Poe! Come on, man!”_

_That did make him flinch, as Finn marched him the last short distance to the hut and took him by the shoulders, turning Poe to face him with his back to the stone wall to brace him up. He wasn’t rough about it, but he was firm, and Poe found himself going along unresisting, his knees sagging a little to let him lean against the wall as he stared up at Finn. The younger man leaned over him, face so close to his, hands still pinning him in place against the wall. This was something he had imagined happening more than once before, although under wildly different circumstances, which made for a confusing rush of emotions. Desire. Disappointment. Shame strong enough to ache._

_Finn stared down at him, frustration clear even though Poe’s vision wasn’t quite steady. “Okay. Spill it. Talk to me. Why’d you say you’re losing your mind?”_

_Poe’s resolve crumbled then. He’d known Finn would have to find out sooner or later, and he supposed it was better he heard it from his mouth before it reached him in the form of rumors or some incident he wouldn’t be able to control. Besides, he wasn’t sure he could say no to anything Finn might ask of him right now, like this, his hands pinning him to the wall behind him and his face so close Poe could feel his warm, sweetly boozy breath. Poe closed his eyes against that dangerous distraction and finally started to talk._

_“Been having a lot of nightmares. Lot. Bad ones. And uh...these attacks. When I can’t think about anything but bad stuff. Get scared. Can’t breathe, can’t...do anything about it. That’s what happened at the party, you know? I got...freaked out, couldn’t breathe, boom. Down I go.” Hopeless bitterness infused his voice, his eyes still closed. He didn’t want to see Finn’s reaction._

_“Nearly did it again today. With Rey, just because we were talking about...things that happened. It’s been...more than that, it’s happened a lot of times when I was by myself, but...it’s more now. Getting worse. I’m jumping at shadows, buddy. Literally. Feels like my brain’s just...like a live wire I can’t stop touching.” He laughed, low and breathless and utterly without humor._

_He did open his eyes, then, though he couldn’t quite read Finn’s expression. He was listening, intent, but that was all Poe could divine. He let out a sharp breath, ashamed to find it shaky. “Finn...if this is how I am on a damn vacation, how the hell am I gonna keep...doing this? Leading? I can’t keep it together to have a conversation, I’m…” he swallowed, and forced himself to admit the thing he’d barely been able to admit to himself._

_“I’m scared to get in a cockpit by myself. If that starts happening to me out there...but Finn, if I can’t fly…” His throat closed up, and he couldn’t finish the thought. To his shame and horror, his eyes were stinging. He closed them hastily, but not before a few tears had fallen. Some combination of the liquor and Finn’s closeness had rattled something loose in him, and his control had shattered._

_“Hey! Hey, no, that’s not gonna happen. We’re not gonna let that happen.” Finn pulled him back away from the wall then, gathering him into a tight hug. Poe stiffened, almost pulling away, but finally relaxing into it like a drowning man who’d finally been tossed a life preserver. His arms went around Finn’s waist, forehead dropping against his shoulder. Finn’s flight jacket smelled like well-oiled leather and a hint of woodsmoke, along with the same aftershave he’d been wearing to the party on Ryloth. He must have kept the bottle. That, Poe reflected absently, was not fair. The larger problem, though, was that he was still crying, his shoulders shaking silently. He couldn’t seem to stop._

_Finn just held onto him, silent and understanding. That was worse, somehow, making it harder to just collect himself and move on. He turned his head, cheek pressing to Finn’s shoulder and face turned outward as he leaned against the friend he desperately wished was more than that. After a minute or two like that, Finn spoke, his voice a warm rumble in Poe’s ear._

_“It’s gonna be okay. This kind of thing...it happens. Dr. Kalonia will be able to help you, if you’ll let her. And Rey and me, we’ll help you. But you have to let us.”_

_Poe didn’t trust his voice not to crack, so he just nodded, trusting Finn would feel it. Finn let his chin come to rest on the top of his head, a gesture so sweet Poe thought his heart would break. “The Resistance isn’t the First Order, Poe. No one is gonna put you in reconditioning or...or decommission you because you’re having problems.”_

_Poe was chilled by that implication. He knew that “decommission” had been the First Order’s euphemism for execution of a stormtrooper who couldn’t carry out his duties. Had Finn known others in his predicament who’d been “treated” with a blaster to the head? “I know.”_

_“So why wouldn’t you tell me all this? You thought I wouldn’t respect you?”_

_“I just…” He started, then stopped, hot shame flooding his chest. When he spoke again it was soft, almost too quiet for Finn to hear. He’d never spoken his deepest fear out loud. “If I can’t fly right, and I can’t lead, what the hell use am I?”_

_Finn grasped him by the shoulders again then, pushing him just far enough away to look into his face. When Poe dropped his head to dodge his gaze, Finn ducked down to peer up at him, catching his eye and holding it until Poe straightened up again, sniffing hard once. He scrubbed his jacket sleeve over his face, taking in a shaky breath. He had to pull himself together, but so far willpower just wasn’t getting him there._

_“Poe.” Finn finally spoke, and there was enough intensity there to make Poe meet his eyes again, his own red-rimmed and aching now. “You are worth so much more than what you do for the Resistance. To me, to Rey, to...everyone who cares about you.”_

_“Even if I’m a coward?” Poe tried to smile, tried to make it a joke, but it wasn’t one, and Finn wasn’t fooled. His brow furrowed, his head shaking._

_“Like hell you are. How can you even say that? After everything you’ve done? You’re one of the bravest people I’ve ever met. Don’t...don’t talk like that.” He pulled Poe back into a fierce hug, one hand wrapping around the back of his head. Poe felt like he should resist it, should stand stronger, but instead he melted into it, his chin resting on Finn’s shoulder and his eyes closing tightly as he returned the embrace. “Don’t ever talk like that.”_

_“Okay. Thanks, Finn,” he finally mumbled. Stars, he was so tired, and so drunk, and it had been so long since anyone had held him like that, and now it was_ Finn, _and it felt so good he couldn’t focus. His head spinning from the drink, he blurted out the only thing that popped into his head. “Why do you smell so good?”_

_Poe froze then, eyes opening wide in horror. Did he say that out loud? To judge by how Finn had gone quiet and still too, he had. Poe suddenly felt almost sober, beginning to silently panic. Then Finn pulled back, staring at him in puzzlement a moment before he cracked up laughing. Poe’s heart began to beat again, the blood returning to his limbs. Good. Finn had just taken it as a funny thing said by a drunk, nothing more._

_Good. He supposed. He forced a smile himself, shrugging. “What? It’s a good cologne.”_

_“I think we better get you to bed, buddy.” Finn was still chuckling as he opened Poe’s door, helping him inside and steadying him as he eased down onto the mattress. Poe clumsily took his jacket off, hands a little unsteady after the wild emotional swings of the last few minutes. He tossed it aside, waving it off when Finn moved to pick it up._

_“Don’t worry ‘bout it, not like I’ve got a closet.”_

_Finn, always much neater than him, shrugged in resignation, then helped him get his boots off. Poe sprawled back on his mattress then, staring up at Finn through heavy-lidded eyes, suddenly melancholy again. It seemed clear that was as close as he was ever going to get to Finn actually taking him to bed. All it had taken was getting hammered, having a nervous breakdown on him, and then making him think he was losing his marbles._

_At least he’d gotten some good hugs out of it. And that thought was so pathetic that he wanted to roll over and smother himself with his own pillow._

_“You good? You don’t wanna get out of your clothes?” Finn straightened up, still a little unsteady himself, peering down at him. He waved it off, shaking his head._

_“Seems like too much work, right now. ‘M good.” And he’d be damned if he got undressed with Finn’s help. There was no way he would get out of that without some kind of new social disaster._

_“Okay...well…” Finn hesitated, glancing around the bare little hut. Even BB-8 had taken himself somewhere else for the night, probably recharging. “You know where I am if you need anything. I mean it. Anything. Goodnight, Poe.”_

_“Thanks, Finn. Seriously.” Poe let out a long breath, looking up at him in the warm glow from the lantern. Then he just smiled, putting on his best contented drunk guy impression, somewhat undercut by his reddened eyes, but whatever. Whatever made Finn feel better about leaving, because if he didn’t leave soon, there was a healthy chance Poe was going to say something even more stupid that he would regret intensely when he sobered up. “Goodnight.”_

_Finn looked down at him a moment longer, expression unreadable, and then nodded. He lifted a hand in half a wave before stepping out, shutting the door securely behind himself. Poe waited until he was sure he was gone, then tugged his pillow out from under his head, holding it over his face so he could give a loud, self-loathing groan into it and not be overheard._

Recalling it now, Poe groaned again, resting his forehead against one of the natural rock walls enclosing the shower he’d just reached. Despite the intense ache in his skull, he softly bumped his head against it a few more times for good measure before stepping inside the little enclosure and starting to strip, wrinkling his nose at the stale, rumpled clothes.

The solar shower was a simple enough contraption. A solar-powered moisture converter captured water from the air, augmented by any rain that might fall, filling a large, transparent dome. The water then was warmed by the sun, and a simple mechanical switch could be flipped to open the drain and create a simple, gravity-powered shower. Using biodegradable soap and shampoo meant there didn’t need to be any real drainage, the water just rolling down the cliff and back to the sea. 

That was the theory, anyway. In practice, the moisture converter kept breaking down. Rey had already fixed it three times. Poe crossed his fingers and hoped for the best when he flipped the switch, stepping into the tepidly warm water, the sun having not had much of a chance to heat up the tank at that point in the day. Water began to fall, which was a good sign. He lathered up as quickly as he could, rinsing off his body before starting on his hair. Just starting to feel clean was making his headache better, although he still felt deeply queasy. 

He had gotten shampoo all through his hair when the water slowed to a trickle, and then stopped. He said every curse word he could think of in a long stream, measured and resigned, then sighed. Looked like it was going to have to be an icy cold bucket of spring water over his head. Perfect. Just perfect. 

Finn seemed to be finding it much easier to concentrate on a meditation in motion. Luke had not had much time to teach Rey traditional lightsaber techniques, but this was one area in which the Jedi texts had proven dramatically helpful, with one slim manual dedicated entirely to detailed descriptions and drawings of the seven forms of lightsaber combat. C-3PO had provided a complete translation of that one, and it was from that book that Rey had drawn the routine that she now had Finn moving through with her, slowly and serenely for now, with wooden practice blades.

While she still had to concentrate on her own form, being more familiar with staff techniques, she kept an eye on her student. Finn moved with surety and grace, although he’d seemed a little bit under the weather first thing in the morning, probably just from overindulging the night before. She’d had a headache herself, though had found that Force meditation had cleared it up quickly. 

The form they were moving through was the first of the seven, often simply called Form I. Rey found she preferred the old name for it, though: Shii-Cho. According to the texts, it was the form every Jedi should be grounded in, and the one they would all fall back on when all else failed. Without any real idea of how to go about training an apprentice, she’d decided that this was as good a place to start as any. 

They moved through the training form together, as smooth and liquid as the waves out well beyond the shoreline. A decisive sweep to the left, then a half-circle back and up to an overhead block. A chop directly down from there, and then the blade lifted to parry left, then right, the latter leading into a pivot turn to the other side. All was going well, until a sharp yelp split the air. 

Both Jedi and apprentice paused, attention diverted. Finn was the first one to react, yelling “Poe?!” He started up the hill at a jog, Rey starting to follow with a faint, confused frown. She didn’t feel anything really...wrong.

“Finn...I think, maybe…”

“I’m okay!” That was Poe, calling down the hill as they pulled up short. He appeared around a bend in the main path, small at this distance, a towel around his waist and his hair dripping wet. Even from where they were, he did not look happy. “Shower’s out again.” He continued stomping back to his hut, an empty bucket swinging from one hand. 

Finn, shaking his head, could only sigh. Rey laughed, turning back toward the flat patch of ground where they had been training. “He’s up late again.”

“Not surprising,” Finn responded shortly. “He drank most of that bottle himself.” Shaking his head again, he returned to where they’d begun, taking up the draw stance, the hilt held down at his waist and blade pointed toward the ground. 

“We all had a fair amount.” She looked closely at him then, her own practice blade still held loosely at her side. “Are you angry with him?”

“No! Well...I dunno.” Finn sighed, his stance relaxing as he considered the question. Finally he shrugged. “A little, I guess. We, uh, talked last night. About what’s been going on with him. He told me you guys have had some talks lately too.”

“Ah.” Rey waited, as that hadn’t felt like the end of what was on Finn’s mind. It wasn’t. He started to get back into his ready stance, then dropped back out, swiveling to face her. 

“I guess I’m mad he didn’t tell me before. That he’s been trying to get through all this on his own. But that’s not fair, because I understand why he didn’t. I just...wish he hadn’t felt like that. Like he needed to hide.” Finn switched his grip on the practice sword a few times, twirling it lightly to settle the hilt in his palm again, watching that as he spoke. Finally he looked back over at Rey, his face grimmer than it usually was. “I’m mad that anything made him feel like that.”

“I understand that.” She thought for a moment, weighing the practice blade in her hand, before nodding. “Anger...the Jedi texts all warn against it as a path to the Dark Side. But I don’t think you can go through life without feeling some anger, and I don’t think anger is always harmful. I think you can be angry at things like injustice. Angry on behalf of other people.”

“Like...righteous anger?” Finn looked intrigued by the idea. “That’s good, because I don’t think I can ever be totally not angry with anyone, ever. I mean, did these old Jedi ever _meet_ people?”

Rey laughed, getting back into the starting stance for the form again. Finn followed suit, mirroring her motions perfectly. His weapons training was already standing him in good stead. He’d never been trained in swordsmanship before, but he’d used electroprods and riot control batons, which were close enough to help him grasp the basics of the form. “They did rather distance themselves from the rest of society. Possibly that’s part of why.”

“Yeah...didn’t they, you know...not do the whole romance thing? No attachments?” Finn peered over at her, waiting for the cue to begin, but there was also a sharpening of curiosity she felt from him that made her look his way.

“Yes…” she drew the word out, thoughtful. “Yes, but I’m not entirely sure it was the right thing to do. Perhaps it’s time another way was tried.”

“Really?” He seemed to perk up at that. “What are you thinking?”

“Nothing set in stone just yet. But...look at us.” Her gesture encompassed the two of them, and swept up the hill to include Poe, and somehow everything else. “The Resistance. We fought for good, not because we refused attachment, but out of...well. Love for each other. Like the two of us. I could have left, gone back to Jakku...but I wound up staying and fighting because of Han. Because of Leia. Because…” She paused, unsure how to encapsulate her feelings for those two in particular. How they’d seemed instantly like people she wanted to have in her life as long as she could.

“Because if those were the people on our side, how could we not fight?” she finally continued. “And you...I know you stayed because of me. Not to flatter myself.” She grinned briefly at Finn, who returned it with a smile, a nod, and a shrug.

“At first, anyway. You...then everyone else. And then for the cause. But...mostly all of you.”

“Right, but those are attachments! And if attachments can create so much good, then maybe...maybe the Jedi were wrong. Maybe it’s not attachment, maybe it’s just...the quality of that attachment.” Finn nodded thoughtfully, and Rey finally began to move them through the form, considering her next words. 

“Not jealousy, not possessiveness. Not trying to take ownership of another person. Not fearing being left alone. But love...how could anything bad come from real love?” She led them into the overhead block, the chop, the left parry, the right, the turn. Finn moved with her in perfect synchronicity, with no perceptible delay between their movements. 

“People do bad things for love, though,” Finn countered, as they sank onto their back foot for a low slice at an invisible opponent’s legs. “You think none of those First Order officers ever loved anybody else? I can tell you a lot of them loved their cause, too. Loved the Order.”

“That’s true. But how...healthy a love? You weren’t even really allowed to make friends with your batch, from what you’ve told me. Always competing, always having to be at least a little afraid of each other.” 

“Yeah, but...some people loved each other. Troopers. Even then. I knew some couples. Real couples, not just fooling around. They had to keep it a secret, but...you notice.” Finn’s tone was introspective, musing as they moved through the form. Two wheeling slashes in a hypnotic figure 8 across the chest. A sharp reversal, to a backwards jab.

“Yes, of course. But…” Rey floundered a moment, unsure how to make the point that seemed to dangle just out of her grasp, an idea that had been slowly germinating in her mind for months now. “That love, that wasn’t why they did bad things, was it? I knew people who really loved each other on Jakku, too, but...desperation makes people do terrible things. So does fear. Having to stay hidden. That’s not the _love_ causing evil, it’s the circumstances around it.” 

The two turned sharply in tandem, then hopped an additional half turn, blade lunging forward. It was a surprise charge against their invisible enemy, at quarter-speed. As soon as they had extended through their full reach they spun again, dodging a counterstrike and then sweeping their blade through the air at head height to finish the job. They stopped then, wooden blades dropping to point to the ground, as an actual lightsaber would switch off.

“Nicely done.” Rey nodded approvingly. Finn grinned at her, lifting his practice saber in a mock-fierce pose.

“I’m a natural. What’d I tell you?”

“Oh, so you don’t need to practice this and we can go back to Force meditation?” She laughed as he grimaced, the blade drooping again.

“Oh, uh...suddenly I feel much less confident. Better practice some more.” He sucked in air through his teeth, shaking his head mournfully. She laughed harder, reaching out to snatch the practice saber away, not really meaning it. He withdrew, holding her at arm’s length while hiding the saber behind his back. At that, she lifted her eyebrows and held out her hand, calling the wooden blade with the Force. It yanked itself out of Finn’s hand and smacked into hers, and he groaned, admitting defeat.

“Man...that’s cheating.”

“Meditate, improve your control, and I won’t be able to do that as easily. Come on, let’s get some lunch.” She tossed him back the practice blade, and he caught it easily as they set off across the rocks. The brief bout of laughter had faded, and he was looking thoughtful again.

“Rey...you think you’ll ever love somebody? I mean, like...be _in_ love with somebody.”

She should have expected the question, in light of their conversation, but it still pierced her with a needle-thin blade. It was all the more difficult to answer because she didn’t really know, not for certain. She’d been obsessed with someone. She had loved someone enough to try to save him from himself, and from the Dark Side, despite all the terrible things he’d done. She had loved someone enough to save his life when she’d been trying to kill him moments earlier. She’d loved someone enough that he’d saved hers in return.

She’d kissed someone. Just once, but she remembered it with complete clarity, so much so that she could close her eyes and conjure it up again as if it were happening in the moment. Perhaps that was some aspect of their duality in the Force, but perhaps it was love. How should she know? She’d never loved anyone before. And she’d never get a chance to know what would have come next, so how could she say for certain whether or not it was the kind of love Finn meant?

“I don’t think so,” she finally answered, putting one foot in front of the other. It was how she’d been living all these months since that strange, nightmarish time on Exegol. One step at a time. “I don’t think that’s...who I am. Not now.”

“Because you’re a Jedi?”

“No. Because I’m me.” She smiled at him sidelong, slinging the practice blade over her shoulders and then draping her forearms over it, balanced behind her neck. It was how she’d carried water in the desert, one waterskin or bucket hanging from each end of her staff. “I’ve never been particularly interested.” It wasn’t a lie. One exception simply proved the rule, didn’t it?

“What, not at all? Like...I mean…” Finn floundered a moment before Rey took pity.

“I tried seeing if I liked...spending time with a few people on Jakku. A couple of boys, a couple of girls, one neither. I’d rather be putting a ship back together. Not that they weren’t lovely, not that some of it wasn’t fun, just…” She shrugged. “I suppose I don’t need it. Or it would have to be something I stumbled into. But it’s not something I’m looking for.” There, that much was perfectly true. “And what about you? I thought maybe you and Rose…”

“No. We’re just friends. Good friends. What do you want for lunch?” 

Rey noticed the quick change of subject, but let it slide for now. Finn wasn’t particularly subtle. Something was bothering him, but he’d get to it in his own time, if he wanted to tell her. For now, it was a subject from which she was ready to move on. 

Clouds were starting to gather overhead as they approached the area where they’d taken to gathering for meals, with its flat table rock. They’d commandeered one of the nearby empty huts, one not in good enough shape for habitation but adequate for keeping storage crates out of the rain, as something of a larder. That’s where they found Poe, coming back outside with a handful of bread portion packs. He halted, giving them a sheepish smile. His hair was still damp, combed back and curling around his ears, but his clothes were fresh even if he looked a bit washed out, his skin a paler brown than usual. 

“Hey, uh...I was getting lunch ready. If you guys want.” He gestured at the table rock with his free hand, and Rey glanced that way. It had already been set with their metal plates and utensils, and in the center was a platter of sliced cheese, dried fruit, and some slices of the smoked fish the local Caretakers prepared. 

“Thank you, Poe, that’s lovely.” Rey gave him a smile, Finn already zeroing in on the food and grabbing a slice of cheese as he echoed her thanks.

“Least I could do, after making an ass of myself last night.” Poe began ripping open the bread packs, emptying the contents into three small bowls, adding water, and stirring. He set them out at their individual places as the breads bloomed upward, puffing like balloons as the instant heat reaction expanded the air bubbles inside and then set the proteins and starches. Within seconds they were finished, lightly steaming as the trio sat to eat. Rey noticed that Poe just stuck with his bread, not touching the platter in the middle.

“Not hungry?” Finn asked, but there was a sly note to it. Poe shook his head with a grimace. 

“Listen, I barely got through trading some bread packs for that fish without losing everything I ever ate. Back to my _birth._ It’s gonna be a miracle if I keep this down. Wish me luck.” He broke his roll open, pausing to sniff dubiously at the piece he’d torn off before making a face and popping it in his mouth. 

They all dug in then, Rey stifling a laugh when she saw how reluctantly Poe was nibbling at the bread. He was sitting far enough away from the boulder to avoid the smell of the fish. “Is there anything we can do to help?”

“Nah, I earned this.” He cleared his throat then, setting his bread down and looking at them both with bleak seriousness. “Finn, Rey...I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize. You just had a bit too much to drink.” Rey waved it off, before leaning in to grab a handful of the dried fruit. The sea air on Ahch-To certainly had a way of making her constantly hungry.

“No, I mean...well, yeah, I’m sorry for last night too, but...I mean…I’m sorry. For not telling you I was struggling. For you having to deal with, uh, all of that.” He looked down then, rubbing the knuckles of one hand. Rey reached across the rock, laying a hand on his forearm. Poe glanced down at that in surprise, then took her hand with a grateful little squeeze. On his other side, Finn took his other hand, then Rey’s, so that they were joined in a loose circle.

Finn spoke first, his tone firm. “It’s okay. We understand. You’ve just gotta tell us now, when things are too much, okay? We’ll figure it out. Together.”

Poe nodded, biting his lip as he looked between them. Then he smiled, giving their hands another squeeze before pulling away. “Cut it out, you saps. I promise, I’ll talk to you, okay?”

“Good. Now, will you send a message to Dr. Kalonia?” Rey popped a bit of fruit in her mouth, chewing slowly. It was still a luxury to eat something like this, only lightly processed. She wasn’t sure what the fruit was, exactly—it had been purchased on Ryloth, and presumably grown there—but it was tangy and sweet. 

Poe shook his head, picking up his bread again to rip off another small bite, now that he’d been able to keep some in his stomach for a few minutes. “Thought about it, but...someone else would see, even just the beginning, probably Connix. I don’t want to worry people into thinking I’m not healthy. Not right now. Anyway, what could she do from there?” 

Finn didn’t look happy about that, but he and Rey both nodded reluctantly, seeing the sense to it. Rey privately resolved that she would just be more on the alert, and would take matters into her own hands if she saw Poe deteriorating past the point of getting help of his own volition. She had promised no Force interference, and would keep her word, but also knew BB-8 would let her send a message asking for help if she needed to. 

Poe continued, “I figure I’ll try to just...get a lot of exercise, try to sleep enough, eat when I’m supposed to. All that stuff doctors always want you to do.” He gave a subdued grin, picking at the half-eaten bread. “After today, anyway.”

“Exercise, hm?” Rey’s mouth curled into a mischievous smile, then, and she glanced over at Finn. “I may have some ideas for that, if you’re up for it.”

“Why does that sound like I’m going to be a moving target?” Poe smiled, though, more genuinely. “Sure, I’m game. Just, uh...not today.”

“Yeah, that would not be a fair fight.” Finn, finishing his food, hopped up and took his plate, as well as Poe’s untouched one. “Look, finish your bread, drink some water. Take a nap. We got this, buddy. I’ll check for any new messages.” 

“Thanks.” Poe smiled up at him, and Rey watched the two of them a moment before turning to finishing her own food. One didn’t have to be sensitive to the Force to see the warmth that flowed between the two men, but to her it was as clear as golden threads stretched between them. She thought if anyone could get Poe through this rough patch, it would be Finn. 

***

Shan’jora woke slowly, aware that something was wrong even before her eyes opened. The sounds, the quality of the light, even her posture was all wrong. She wasn’t lying in her bed, she was almost upright, a hard and tilted surface under her back. The Twi’lek’s eyes opened slowly, the world a blur of streaked colors for a long few seconds before it came into focus and she realized, with dawning horror, where she was.

This was a ship. She could hear the thrusters rumbling through the floor plates. She was restrained, arms and legs strapped down to a table, or some kind of semi-recumbent chair. And she wasn’t alone.

With a thrill of terror she realized there were stormtroopers present. Two of them, their uniforms a blood red she’d never seen before, stood along the back wall of a small, gray room. Somehow the bland, featureless box, more at home in an office building, was more frightening than a black dungeon might have been, just like the faceless and interchangeable masks of the troopers. As she came to full awareness, adrenaline surging, she realized there were two more figures to one side, humans in sharply creased black uniforms. The closest, a patrician, gray-haired man who would have been handsome in any other circumstance, cleared his throat and smiled. 

“Welcome to the _Bitter Harvest,_ Ms. Shan’Jora. I am Vice-Admiral Jovhar Rendridd, of what you have known as the First Order. It’s been a pleasure to correspond with you, so I am happy to finally meet you face to face.”

“The pleasure is all yours,” she spat back, suddenly furious. Not that she wasn’t still afraid, but anger gave her new strength, and she tested her bonds with a sudden surge forward. She wasn’t as strong as she had been in her youth, but she was still disciplined, training with her fellow Ryloth Freedom Force members every few days. Not that it made a difference. The restraints were solidly made, not budging an inch. Her heart raced, sweat already beginning to bead on her forehead. 

The man smiled thinly, his hands folded neatly behind his back as he stepped forward, looming over her to force her to look up at him. “So hostile. Why, I thought we were allies! You were certainly happy to pass us information about the Resistance vermin infesting your homeworld.”

“Information, yes, but since when did I agree to being kidnapped and held by your little goons?” She shot a look to the stormtroopers, and to the woman standing stolidly behind the man. She was young, blonde, and looked faintly nervous. Maybe if Shan’Jora could get her alone, she could appeal to her directly. “This is a hell of a way to repay your informants!”

“The difficulty, Ms. Shan’Jora, is that we suspect you have been holding out on us. We have been unable to put your limited information to use at this time, and so...we’ve been forced to get a bit more creative.” Rendridd snapped his gloved fingers and then held out his hand. His lieutenant, the young woman, stepped forward and placed a slim, black remote control in his palm. Shan’Jora watched nervously, a pit opening in her stomach, and licked her lips.

“What more do you need? I told you at the outset of this, I’m not inside the Resistance, I’m just on the ground helping them look for a permanent base, so there’s a limit to—” she cut off with a sharp cry as the electrodes on the chair beneath her rippled to life, sending her arching against the restraints in a wave of uncontrollable muscle contractions, her insides gripped with pain that left her shaking as she collapsed back. The jolt was brief, but astoundingly painful.

Rendridd leaned over her, putting an almost companionable hand on her shoulder as she panted for air. He spoke close to her ear, and she flinched away from the heat of his breath. “That was a mere taste of what we can do. If you do not become more forthcoming, and quickly, that will be the most pleasant thing to happen to you today. Do you understand? Nod, if you understand.”

Eyes huge, she nodded frantically, lekku curling up as tightly as they could against her neck. None of her training with the RFF had prepared her for something like this, although it was a possibility they’d discussed, in many of their discreet meetings. When the First Order remnants had approached them looking for information on the Resistance, they’d thought it prudent and expedient to cooperate, the best option for keeping the Republic-minded and human-dominated Resistance off of their planet. Now she realized they may have made a terrible miscalculation.

“Good. Now...where did the three go? Dameron, the Jedi Rey, and the so-called General Finn.” Rendridd toyed with the remote control, still leaning against her. Her nodding turned to swift shakes of her head, trying to plead with her eyes first at Rendridd, then at the woman behind him. 

“I don’t know! I really don’t, I don’t think anyone outside of the Resistance knows, and probably—” She was cut off again by her own squeal when Rendridd abruptly straightened and hit the button again, expression almost bored. He depressed it for longer this time, holding it a full second before releasing it and allowing her to slump against her bonds again, shaking violently. 

“Where are they?” 

“I don’t know!” It came out as a wail, her voice cracking. She focused on the woman now, all thoughts of dignity gone now. “Please, you have to believe me, I am not in a position to know that! But—”

Rendridd’s hand moved for the button again, but the woman was swifter, reaching out to pause him with a tap to his wrist. He gave her an incredulous look, and Shan’Jora thought dimly that the young woman had better be careful, with that sort of man.

“Sir, I believe she was about to—”

“Lieutenant Preslo, you are insubordinate. I have brought you to witness this interrogation so that you may be instructed, not so you may instruct me.” Shan’Jora thought Rendridd sounded like a hissing snake as he turned on his lieutenant, eyes boring into her. “Or do you wish to learn my methods first hand? Because that can be arranged, once this chair is empty.”

Biting her lip, the young woman gave a nervous shake of her head, taking a step back. “No, sir. My apologies, sir.” She saluted sharply, but before Rendridd could turn back to the business at hand, Shan’Jora was already talking, desperate to get her words out before he could hit that button again. She was no longer as young as she was, and she dreaded to think of how much of that she could possibly take.

“Vice-Admiral, please, I do have information, just...just not that information, I can share…” She swallowed hard, trying to put her scattered thoughts in order and force them out in her shaking voice. “I don’t know where they went, but I know...where the new Resistance base will be.”

Rendridd stared at her through narrowed eyes a moment, then nodded curtly, lowering the control. “Get Vicrul,” he ordered Preslo, and the lieutenant saluted again before hurrying out through the door. Shan’Jora could have sworn the stormtroopers exchanged glances then, just a slight tilt to the helmeted heads. Who was this Vicrul, and why did she feel more afraid than ever?

***

The messages for the day had brought actual good news, for once. Though the Ryloth council was still debating the length of the lease, they had agreed to allow the Resistance use of the old Imperial base, in exchange for certain promises of protection should Ryloth come under attack or interference from outside forces. Though the details were yet to be ironed out, the Resistance could begin updating the base, fixing machinery and moving in their ships. Poe had cheered aloud when he’d gotten the news, brought down by a beaming Finn and a cheerfully beeping BB-8. Then he’d winced, because the painkillers had been wearing off and his head was making its complaints known again, but the news had given him a high that had lasted the rest of the day after he’d composed and sent his response.

So why did he feel so bad now?

It was late at night. He hadn’t checked the time in a while, too depressed by the advancing clock to keep staring at it, but he knew it was well after midnight. He’d tried simply lying down and closing his eyes for over an hour, but sleep was nowhere near, and the longer he stayed awake, the further away it got. At first he’d thought maybe it was just because he’d slept so late that morning, then taken a nap that afternoon, but it was increasingly difficult to ignore the fact that he didn’t feel normal. 

What he felt, in fact, was dread. He couldn’t have explained why, if he’d been asked, but it was difficult to tell that to a brain that was convinced he, his friends, and the Resistance were in some kind of nebulous danger. His thoughts raced from one terrible scenario to another every time he closed his eyes, and eventually he’d given up, flinging off his covers with a sudden violence that made BB-8 chirp a question.

“Nothing, buddy. Just can’t sleep.” He fumbled for his lantern, suddenly uncomfortable in the dark, and relaxed just slightly when he flipped the switch and the homely interior of the hut was revealed again. It hadn’t changed. Some tiny, irrational part of his brain had been half-convinced that when the light came on, he’d be back in the interrogation room on the _Finalizer._ That seemed to be where his mind wound up, now, whenever it went wandering. Why? That was one of the most frustrating aspects of all of this, how the thing that happened longest ago out of almost everything that kept haunting his thoughts was the thing that kept coming back, stronger than ever.

It felt selfish, somehow, to keep dwelling on an event that had hurt only him, when so many of his friends had died. He felt guilty every time he realized he was fixating on it again, as if he was doing them all— Leia, Snap, Tallie, L’ulo, Nodin Chavri, Amilyn Holdo, all the Resistance leaders who had died on the bridge of the Raddus, Paige Tico and all the bombadier crews lost in taking down the Dreadnaught on his disobedient order, too many others to begin to count or name—a disservice by not placing their loss, their sacrifice, higher on his list of worries. That guilt didn’t help matters, of course. It just meant that every time he was bothered by the memory of the shadowy cell and what had happened in it, he felt suffocated with fear _and_ guilt. 

Poe surged to his feet, BB-8 rolling back away from him with another puzzled bleep. He gave the droid a distracted pat on the head as he passed. It wasn’t like there was much room to pace in the hut, but he had suddenly felt like if he didn’t start moving, he would explode. He’d felt like that often in the course of his life, never someone who could be patient with inactivity, his poor teachers regularly despairing of getting him to sit still, but this was different. He dragged the fingertips of one hand along the rough stone walls as he walked, circling the small room until he reached the edge of his mattress where it rested against the wall, then reversing course to go the other way, his eyes fixed on nothing much.

He couldn’t focus on one thing long enough to form a coherent thought about it before he was off to the next. This was, if it were possible to pinpoint one thing, the thing he hated most about this...condition, disorder, whatever they wanted to call it. The moments when he couldn’t put his thoughts in a row to save his life, but also couldn’t shut them off. The only thing that helped at times like this was movement, and so he paced, BB-8 slowly beginning to follow him, in uncertain little jerks.

Snap’s ship dissolving, cutting off his screams in an instant. The hangar disintegrating in front of him, slamming him back into the wall. Seeing the bridge go up, thinking they’d lost Leia. Watching the bombers’ fatal run. Watching transport after transport, each full of people he’d known and fought beside and often loved, picked off as they tried to flee the Raddus, all because he couldn’t trust a damn order. The zap of the interrogation chair’s electrodes coming to life. Snap, screaming. Poe rocked to a stop, hands instinctively going over his ears even though he knew that what he was hearing wasn’t something he could block out physically. 

BB-8 bumped against his leg with a shrill, imperative whistle, and he jerked away, almost kicking out at the droid before he could stop himself. He shook his head, breathing ragged as he backed up until his spine was pressed to the wall, then closed his eyes tightly. There was just too much. Too much noise, in a tiny, silent hut. Too many images, in a place that was just bare stone walls and the few things he’d brought along. BB-8 chattered questions, but he couldn’t answer, his jaw set so tightly it felt like he might break a tooth. 

When there was a knock at the door, he jerked so hard his head rebounded off the wall behind him, sending him staggering forward, clutching at the back of his skull. He bit back a yelp, just letting out a pained grunt.

“...Poe?” The voice outside sounded concerned. It was Finn. Poe stood still, bent at the waist and hands still at the back of his head, holding his breath a moment. He didn’t know what to do. Despite his new intention to be open and honest with them both, he still didn’t want Finn to see him like this. There was a difference between talking about his problems and baring them, like an open wound. But Finn didn’t sound like he could be put off, and Poe knew he couldn’t pull himself together convincingly enough to brazen it out. Not starting from here. 

So he took a deep breath, straightened up, clenched and relaxed his fists a few times, and then strode forward to tug the door open. Finn was visibly taken aback, and Poe was conscious of how he must look— breathless, shaky, sweating and cold at once, his pupils wide and his hair ruffled. He also, he realized belatedly, was not wearing a shirt, just long, loose pants. He turned away from the door to go grab one, stooping unsteadily over his luggage to retrieve one. “Hey, uh...c’mon in.”

Finn, after a moment’s hesitation, took a cautious step in, glancing around the hut as if looking for the source of the trouble. BB-8 wheeled up to him, talking insistently, but of course Finn only ever caught a few recognizable phrases when droids were talking. He did reach down to reassuringly pat the astromech, which calmed him a little. Either that, or how intent Finn looked as he approached while Poe shrugged on the first shirt his hand touched. Poe didn’t need the added vulnerability of a bare chest and back while he dealt with this. Putting the shirt on immediately made him feel safer, though he still flinched when he turned back around and found Finn closer than he’d expected. “Wh—”

“Hey, hey! Hey. It’s okay, my bad.” Finn stepped back, one hand going up, palm forward. The other rose up too, but it was holding something, a canister Poe almost recognized, even dazed as he was. 

“Sorry. Sorry…” Poe held his hands up too, an unconscious gesture of surrender. He closed his eyes a moment, trying to reorient himself in both space and time. “Did I wake you up? I didn’t think I was making noise, but, uh, did I wake you up?”

“No, no. I just...well, something woke me up, but not a noise, then I saw your light was on...Poe.” Finn’s voice gentled, and Poe opened his eyes a crack to look at him. “You look...terrible. How about you sit down?”

Poe hesitated, loath to stop moving, but he could see the wisdom of it, given his new and inconvenient habit of toppling over when things got too bad. He finally nodded, easing away to lower himself down to sit on the edge of the mattress. BB-8 trundled up, hesitating until Poe looked his way, then settling in next to him with a quiet, downturned whistle. Poe tried to smile at him, then let his elbows settle onto his knees, then his head sink into his hands, fingers burying in his hair. 

“So...guess this is one of those attacks you were talking about last night? If you...remember that part of last night.” Finn, after watching him a moment, also eased down to sit, crosslegged on the floor on a braided mat one of the Caretakers had huffily provided. 

“I do. It is.” Poe rubbed at his eye with the heel of his hand, then took a deep breath through his nose and tipped his head back to look at the ceiling. “Sorry, just...give me a minute.”

“You’re okay. It’s okay.” Finn set down the canister beside him, and Poe gave it a look, finally focusing on it. 

“Are those...trin sticks?” 

“Thought you might need a distraction.” Finn offered him a small, subdued smile, and Poe melted, just a little. He was in no condition to flirt, but the thoughtful gesture almost made him want to try. Maybe. If he hadn’t been so against the idea of risking everything they had as friends.

“Can’t believe you brought trin sticks.” 

“They don’t get the holo feeds out here, you know.” He opened the canister then, rattling it as he offered it over to Poe. “Wanna play?”

Poe just stared at it for a moment, then let out an almost pained laugh and shrugged, reaching out with a shaking hand to withdraw six sticks from the canister, his hand hiding the colors of their tips. It was the simplest of games, but endlessly different, played by schoolchildren and Cloud City gamblers alike. Finn took his own six and they studied their hidden choices, each exchanging a few of the sticks for new draws. 

“So what happened?”

“Nothing, really. Sometimes I just...do this. Everything just...spirals.” Poe lay down his hand first, the colored tips matching as he laid them end to end to form a simple square. Two sticks were discarded. Not the best hand, not the worst.

Finn nodded, laying down his own hand. A pentagram, only one stick left over. Poe nodded an acknowledgement of his defeat and they both returned their pieces, Finn then giving the canister a shake to mix them up again.

“Thinking about anything in particular?”

But Poe’s mind shied away from going into anything in more detail. He shook his head, drawing a new hand of sticks. Finn did the same, as Poe finally answered, to some degree. “Just...everything bad in the war. Had a lot of bad in it, so…” He tried for a wry, flip tone, missing by some distance. 

Finn laid down his hand this time after trading, with a sigh. Just a triangle and three mismatched pieces, not enough for a second shape. Poe, with the faintest flicker of satisfaction, laid down a hexagon one piece at a time, with only one discard. “One for me, one for you.”

“Do you still have any of the sleeping meds the doctor gave you?” 

Poe glanced up at him then, forcing himself to think. “I think...two of them.” 

“That does not sound like enough for at least...what, two more weeks? Little more?” Finn swept their pieces off the ground, returning them to the jar to draw another round. 

“What woke you up?” Poe countered with the question, not really wanting to consider what he’d do without that safety net. He already knew that was his best hope of sleeping that night at all, and then he’d be down to one. Finn gave him a look that said he knew what he was doing, but answered.

“I don’t really know. Something just told me to...get up. And look out the window.”

“The Force, huh?” Poe’s tone was light, almost chipper, as he returned his discards and drew two new sticks. This might do it. He couldn’t quite visualize the result, he was having difficulty getting his brain to make those sorts of connections right now, but he thought he had it. 

“Guess so.” Finn sounded rather shy about that, Poe casting him a quick glance at the tone. He pushed his hair back out of his eyes with one hand, then began laying out his shapes. Two triangles. 

“Trin,” Poe announced, not without satisfaction. There. He could still play a ridiculous, childish game. That was one thing he could still accomplish. 

Finn groaned, playing along as he laid out his own hand. He’d gotten a hexagon this time, but it still didn’t beat trin, the double triangles. “You got me. Best two out of three?”

“Nice try. That _was_ two out of three.”

Finn grinned, and Poe felt himself smile involuntarily in return, softening. “Got me again.” They stayed smiling at each other a moment before Poe looked away, suddenly self-conscious. 

“Uh, if you need to go to bed…”

“No, it’s okay. You want another game?”

He wanted rather more than that, although it hardly felt like the right time to say that. Setting the wistful thought aside, he nodded, reaching for the canister. “Here, let me show you another game. Stack-sticks, you ever play that?” 

“Don’t think I have.” Finn settled back to watch as he dumped all the sticks out onto the floor, then swept them into a pile. His hands were getting steadier, which was good, if he wanted to show Finn this particular game.

“So, Wedge Antilles, you remember Wedge? He taught us this at flight school. We all fought him on it, of course. Didn’t see the point. But...I see it now. You’ve gotta have control. Patience.”

“You, have trouble with patience?” Finn sounded utterly innocent, eyebrows raising. 

Poe shot him a warning look that dissolved into a smile, a genuine one. “I heard that. See, you take the sticks, and you just stack them up, one at a time…” He started to demonstrate then, doing the first few himself before he gestured to Finn. “Like that. Last one to add a stick without making it fall wins. You in?”

Finn looked at him over the small stack of sticks, seeming to weigh him up for a moment. Then he smiled, the lamplight making his black eyes sparkle. “Sure. I’m in.” He leaned forward and placed his own stick, making the stack just a touch higher.

***

Lord Vicrul stepped out of the interrogation room, trailed by a pair of his ever-present apprentices. The Knight of Ren stopped short when he saw Rendridd and Preslo waiting for him, the former visibly impatient. 

Rendridd could never stand the mechanical way the theatrical mask the man wore sounded. So unnecessary. He also resented the blast of fear that emanated from the Force user, like the cold that spilled out of a freezer unit whenever it was opened. He’d mostly learned to ignore it, but it was damned distracting. Useful, though, that he had to admit. “Well?”

“It’s done.”

“Elaborate.”

If a mechanical near-monotone could be said to sound aggravated, this one did. “She will return to Ryloth, install the surveillance devices, and provide us with names as a result. You’ll have your hit list.”

“Good.” Rendridd turned to go, but found himself boxed in by an invisible barrier. He stopped, seething. When he turned back to the Knight, he could have sworn the man was smirking, though of course the mask didn’t change a bit. 

“And what then? When will you get me the Jedi girl?”

“I told you, Vicrul, whenever we find a location. Believe you me, I am as eager as you to find the blasted—”

“No, you want your silly revenge on a simple pilot and a stormtrooper who hurt your pride. I want the key to control of the Force. Bring me the Jedi, Rendridd. I’m growing impatient.” 

Rendridd felt the fear creep inside him again, viciously twisting until his heart was hammering and his palms grew slick. He resented the cheap trick, resented the power Vicrul held that he couldn’t access himself. He thought, heretically for him, that it had been a mistake for the Empire to intertwine itself so closely with these dark magicians from the very beginning. The Emperor himself was one thing, but these others...too unpredictable. Too chaotic. Just look at what Kylo Ren had become, at the end.

“You’ll get the girl when I get the others,” he hissed between gritted teeth. “Shan’Jora will help us find them, and all their ilk. And then, when they are left friendless and leaderless, we will wipe that base off the face of Ryloth and take the planet for ourselves.”

“If my people and I support you.” The contempt was audible in the electronic tone, somehow, harsher and more buzzing than either Lord Vader or Ren’s had been. Everything about the man seemed designed to irritate Rendridd. “So make sure I still believe in you, Rendridd. Or else we’ll take our services elsewhere.” 

Vicrul strode off, the invisible barriers around Rendridd finally relaxing. He let out a harsh breath, rubbing at his chest as the fear receded, and cleared his throat. He thought that if, perhaps, the Jedi proved too difficult for Vicrul to collect and live to tell the tale, he wouldn’t be too sorry.


	9. Chapter IX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "They looked at each other for a moment, Poe suddenly aware of his heart speeding up, his cheeks faintly warming despite the cold. Why wasn’t Finn saying anything? Or stepping back? Or should he step back? They were standing closer than usual, close enough that Poe had to tilt his chin up slightly to meet Finn’s eyes, the younger man an inch or two taller. He should probably step back. Shouldn’t he?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally watched Rise of Skywalker again! That sure was...a movie! 
> 
> I had only watched it once before, and I realized some details had escaped my memory, so I may be going back and doing some very minor edits to previous chapters to align with canon. Other details I am happy to continue basically ignoring for the rest of my life. 
> 
> Anyway...enjoy this one. ;)

Fixing the shower, while all around her it was pouring rain. That was the sort of irony Rey enjoyed. She’d rigged a tarp to cover herself and the moisture converter while she worked on it, but she was still thoroughly damp, the hair she hadn’t managed to scrape back into a trio of small buns escaping to stick to her forehead. She’d considered telling the boys, as she sometimes thought of them, to go grab their soap and get out into the rain, and never mind the shower. She supposed it was rather cold for that, though.

In all honesty, she enjoyed the rain. It was so different from Jakku, where rain only came a handful of times a year and was a dangerous, flash flood-inducing event to be ridden out with grim purpose. The rain on Ahch-To was different. Softer, gentler. Not that there couldn’t be fierce storms here, too, but the land seemed built for them, the water simply sluicing off into the ocean. The only thing dangerous here was the lightning, and that tended pass overhead quite quickly. 

It did make repairing electronics more difficult, though. She was constantly patting her face and hands dry on the towel she’d brought up with her to the rock where they’d mounted the moisture converter, worried she’d drip into the circuit boards and short something out. The more sensible thing to do might have been to disassemble the whole thing and bring it inside, but that would have taken half a day and involved them all, whereas Chewbacca had been able to heave the mechanism up there by himself in the first place. 

The other difficulty was the audience. She hadn’t quite anticipated having to work around so many porgs. Apparently, they just came with BB-8 now. 

“Beebee! Catch.” She picked up a half-grown chick that had wandered into the mechanisms too many times, and after making sure the droid was below and had obediently unfolded two of his tool arms, she dropped it. It made an indignant squawk, but BB-8 caught it and set it down gently. It scuttled off to join the rest of the flock that constantly surrounded the droid, aside from the half dozen that were still up on the rock, watching Rey work with a degree of attention that she found rather unnerving.

“All right, now come up here. I need an extra set of hands.” Tootling an affirmative response, BB-8 tilted back and then shot out his grappling hook, which lodged on a crag at the top of the boulder. Rey leaned over to test it for him, then nodded, and the little droid winched himself smoothly up the cable to join her. 

Rey patted him dry as well, then handed him a circuit board, while she fished a new solenoid out of the toolbox she’d brought up with her. “I think this should do the trick. If not, we may need a new pump. Which, unfortunately, we don’t have. Can you cut this off?”

She took back the circuit board, pointing out the solenoid in question before bracing the board in place as BB-8’s little circular saw arm unfolded, neatly slicing it away. Next one of his claw hands accepted the new solenoid, while another soldered it in place. Rey felt rather superfluous, though it was easier for her to maneuver larger objects like the circuit board, at least. While he worked, BB-8 chattered at her, his tone a little more shrill than usual with what Rey took to be worry.

“I know he had another bad night, I could feel that. He wound up taking some medicine again, didn’t he?” She listened for his response, tilting the circuit board to his instructions before he continued. 

“Finn came by? That is interesting. What time?” BB-8 hesitated an instant before answering, checking his memory banks. “Oh-two-hundred? Hmm.” That was late, far later than Finn typically went to sleep. They’d all fallen mostly into going to bed fairly early and waking when the sun rose, except for Poe when he was having difficulties. She’d have to ask Finn what had woken him and called him out. It could mean a step forward for him.

BB-8 was already on to his next question, as Rey began to connect the circuit board back into place. She paused to listen, a cable in one hand and the board in the other. “Well...I don’t know, really, where Finn and I will go after this. But yes, he’ll be with me for the time being. He needs to continue his training.”

The droid made a displeased bleep, then a definitive-sounding series of beeps and whistles. Rey shook her head, turning back to reconnecting the board as the rain drummed on the tarp overhead. “Beebee...I know Poe will miss him, but he’ll manage. He’s going to see the doctor as soon as we get back on Ryloth if I have to club him over the head and drag him there.” Since Poe was so adamant about not having the Force used on him, she half thought that might be what it came to. At least Poe wasn’t much bigger than her. 

Another question, insistent and short. “I don’t know how long we’ll stay on Ryloth.” Rey shut the case of the moisture converter, giving it a pat. She turned to look at BB-8 then, with an apologetic look. “It’s going to depend on how his training is going, and what it’s like there. If he’s able to focus, not get bogged down in Resistance logistics. There are times when it’s dangerous for a Jedi to be wandering around half trained. To himself and others.”

Not that she could talk, really. “Half-trained” was about all she had ever been, although she knew so much more now, after what had happened on Exegol, than she had any right to. All those other Jedi minds joining hers in concert had been something of a shortcut to understanding. A shame she couldn’t share it, as most of it she had yet to be able to put into words. Someday. Maybe someday she’d write a Jedi text of her own. 

BB-8 let out a plaintive whistle and she sighed, then reached out to reconnect the moisture converter to its solar battery. “I wish we could keep Poe with us longer, but...you know we can’t. He’ll have work to do, and we’ll have Finn’s training, and...look, hopefully we won’t be away too long. But Finn will at least need to find a Kyber crystal to build his own saber, and that...it can take some time.” 

She let out another sigh, louder and more exasperated, when the moisture converter sputtered to a halt again after running for only a few short seconds. It hadn’t just been the solenoid, evidently. The shower might be done for, except for whatever rainwater it could collect, if she couldn’t find the spare part she needed. 

“Hey Rey!” It was Poe. She leaned over the edge of the rock to see him approaching, swathed in an oilskin cloak and picking his way past the porgs all staring up at BB-8 in worshipful adoration. “Can I borrow Beebee-Ate? Need to go check the messages.” 

She thought he looked better than he had the day before, anyway. That was something. “Yes, I think we’ve done all we can here. No luck, I’m afraid.” 

“That’s too bad.” BB-8 used his tool arms to lever himself off the edge of the rock, then gave an imperious little bleat. Poe, grinning, stepped in and held his arms up, catching the droid as he dropped. He staggered a little under the sudden weight, but set him down safely. “Least we got plenty of water right now, right?”

“Yes, that’ll do for a day or two.” Poe held out his hands to her with a questioning look, but she just laughed, shaking her head and hopping off the rock. She flipped once in the air before landing lightly on the ground below, using the Force without thought to slow her descent.

“Show-off.” Poe was grinning when he said it, though, waving as he turned to head up the hill with BB-8 and the porg flock in tow. 

***

Shan’Jora sat on the edge of the bed in her tiny Lessu apartment, deep underground. She couldn’t remember how she’d gotten there. She could barely recall how she’d wound up on the  _ Bitter Harvest  _ in the first place, although there was a dim memory of black-clad figures forcing a cloth hood over her head after she’d come home...when had that been? Not the night before. The night before last? She cast a look at her clock, lost. It was the afternoon, far too late for her to be just getting up. But which afternoon?

She wasn’t even sure exactly what had happened aboard the First Order ship. Some of it stood out in stark relief. Some of it had left its mark with the bruises on her wrists and the burns where the electrodes had been pressed into her skin. Other parts of her captivity were less clear in her mind. There had been another dark, hooded figure, and he had...told her things. What things? 

What she did know was that she had to go to the old Imperial base. She had to take tiny listening and signal-hijacking bots, and miniscule cameras, and hide them in specific places that lit up in her brain when she thought of them. She had a box of them, and they all had to be placed just so. The drive to do so was overwhelming, and growing stronger the longer she sat there. 

She stood up jerkily, a puppet with poorly aligned strings. Eyes wide, sweat beading on her forehead, the Twi’lek dressed herself with fumbling fingers. She reached under her bed to where she knew, somehow, that the box was. She was hungry, part of her dimly registered, but she marched past the miniscule kitchen, throwing the front door open with a bang. When she left, the door hung open behind her. 

***

There was a message waiting for Poe, a long one. The first half dealt with the logistics of beginning to take over the old Imperial base, his verbal assent needed for some key acquisitions. He took notes throughout, nodding to himself and shielding his datapad from the rain with his cloak. The pad was supposedly waterproof, but he didn’t think he wanted to test that. The lifts on the base would need to be fixed, the shields replaced and modernized, the barracks completely renovated. But it was a start. The agent the local government had sent to show them the base in the first place, Shan’Jora, would evidently be helping with the transition as well.

He was skimming over his notes and beginning to formulate a reply when a second message began. He looked up at hearing Suralinda’s voice, smiling reflexively. 

“Hey, Black Leader! Quick update for you on that other matter. We have a team together. Humans, like you said. Me, Wrobie Tyce, and Beaumont Kin.” Suralinda ticked them off on her fingers, then waggled the three digits at the camera. “If that sounds good to you, we are ready to roll out to Kala’uun whenever you want. Say yes soon, I’m bored. Hope you’re enjoying your vacation. Home base out!”

Huh. It was interesting, anyway. Wrobie was Commander D’Acy’s wife, a fine pilot, but not someone who’d been placed in an undercover situation before. She was taciturn and close-mouthed, though, and Poe thought she’d do fine. It would be good to have more than one pilot along, too, in case things went south. Not that there was much chance of that on this trip, but if anyone could manage to turn a simple reconnaissance mission into a race with death, it would be Suralinda.

Beaumont was another offbeat choice, a ground soldier who’d been a top-tier historian before he’d signed on to the Resistance. He’d helped Rey and C-3PO with translating some of the Jedi texts, Poe knew. He drummed his fingers on his thigh for a moment in thought, then nodded to himself. Interesting, but they’d do. Beaumont certainly knew enough about the First Order to recognize its adherents when he met them, as well as Rylothian politics, and he and Wrobie were both solid hand to hand fighters, if things went badly off script.

“Okay, Beebee, ready.” The response he recorded wouldn’t be winning any holo awards, the rain a constant fuzz over the lens of BB-8’s built-in camera, but it would do. He went through the permissions for the new base first, giving Connix a laundry list of questions and requests that went on for several minutes. Then he paused, thinking a moment before his message for Suralinda.

“Sura. Your group sounds good. Maybe a little weird, but good. I’m interested to know what you’re planning, but I trust you. Move on it as soon as you’re ready. I want to know what these people are planning, before it’s too late.” He drummed his fingers again in thought, before smiling. “And vacation is going great. As you can see. Real tropical paradise.” His gesture encompassed the rocky ground she’d be able to see, as well as the rain and the hooded cloak that wasn’t doing a particularly good job of keeping him dry, at this point. “Black Leader out.”

The funny thing was, he reflected as BB-8 turned to deliver the message, this vacation really wasn’t that bad. Not that it was much of a vacation, but since coming clean with Finn about how he was actually doing, and since Finn had seen him near his worst and not gone running in the opposite direction, he was feeling...lighter. Better. Taking the sleeping drug and spending the rest of the night in dreamless, heavy sleep had certainly helped too, but the only reason he’d been able to calm down enough to even take it had been Finn’s well-timed intervention. Finn had stayed with him, chatting and playing games, until Poe had been almost back to normal. Then…

_ “Do you want me to stay? I mean...I can stay.” The question had been so innocent, and so well-intentioned. Poe was shaking his head before he finished. _

_ “No, no. You don’t need to do that.” _

_ “It’s okay. Seriously. Or you could come over to mine, it’s a little bigger, we could fit in both bedrolls…or we can share, no big deal, I grew up bunking with other guys.”  _

Oh, he’d wanted to say yes. But he didn’t think he could take it, being that close to exactly what he wanted without telling Finn the truth. The whole truth. And really, the past 24 hours had contained more than enough truth-telling for one day. So he’d sent Finn home, and taken his second-to-last sleep spray, and dropped into peace at last. 

He was distracted from memories of the evening before by BB-8’s concerned beep. It switched to an irritated whistle as an error light flashed on the comms array. “What is it, buddy?”

Poe listened to the droid’s explanation with growing dismay. The message was recorded, it was loading into the comms array, but it wasn’t sending. That would be a problem. He glanced around, internally cursing the weather. This was not ideal circumstances for opening up the casing to figure out what was wrong. 

He could take the whole thing down and take it inside, but it was too heavy for him to carry by himself. He also, while a decent X-wing mechanic by necessity, was not a technical genius by any means, and didn’t trust himself not to do something that would screw everything up if he tried something that drastic. Sighing, he started down the hill. Time to grab the toolkit and some tarps. If it wasn’t one thing, it was another. Maybe he should just take a shower in the rain while he was at it.

***

It was later. How much later, Shan’Jora didn’t know. She didn’t know how she’d found herself at her refresher sink, staring into the mirror as if trying to recognize herself in her own golden eyes. Her normally vibrant purple skin was ashen, almost gray. She lifted her fingers to her mouth to touch a bruise on her lower lip, the pain reassuring. At least she could still feel.

Her hands were dirty, she saw in the mirror, smeared with dust and grease. How had that...right. She’d been doing...some repairs, was it? Back at the old Imperial base. No, not repairs. Putting in recording equipment and bugs to hijack transmissions. Cameras. She flinched, eyelids fluttering as her thoughts pushed back against her. After a long moment standing still, she began to wash her hands, slow and mechanical in her movements.

She needed to contact her RFF handler in Kalaa’un. Tell them what had happened. Tell them they were making a terrible mistake in working with the leftovers of the First Order. They wouldn’t respect Ryloth’s independence any more than they had respected her own independence. The Resistance might be trouble, might be colonizers in waiting, but the First Order was evil. She had to tell them. But right now, it seemed, all she could do was wash her hands. Only when the water got hot enough to scald did she pull back, a moment too late.

Hands stinging and dripping, Shan’Jora began to make her slow way down the hall to her bedroom. Her datapad was there, still plugged into her communications port. She could tell them. Tell them what had happened to her, what she’d done under...what kind of compulsion had it been? It felt like a dream, a bad one. Had it been a dream? Had any of it really happened? But no, her lip was bruised, her wrists were chafed, the electrical burns still stung. It had happened. It had  _ happened.  _

Using the determination of that realization to push through the fog that kept trying to roll back over her thoughts, Shan’Jora stumbled into her bedroom, reaching for the datapad. But it wasn’t where she’d left it. Her communications dock stood empty. Dismayed, she turned in a circle, searching with what wherewithal she had left. The people who had taken her (there had been people, hadn’t there?) must have done something with it. Maybe it was somewhere else in the apartment?

But she was so tired. She couldn’t search now, she was too tired. She’d have to rest. She’d just have to lay down and rest first.

***

After her failure to fix the shower, Rey had been happy to let Poe make the first stab at comms relay repairs, handing over a tarp and tools before she ducked into Finn’s hut. Neither of them was in the mood to train outdoors in the circumstances, so it seemed an opportune time to work again on levitation.

Finn had been quietly practicing ever since his first success at lifting a rock. Sometimes it didn’t work, but more often than not, now, he was able to lift an object after some time spent meditating. It was more difficult when Rey was present, his nerves getting in the way of his concentration. Today he sat in perfect stillness on the mat on his floor, legs folded and hands resting, open, on his knees. In front of him was a trio of pebbles. Rey sat to one side, speaking quietly.

“I’ve waited so long to teach you the Jedi Code because...well, I wasn’t sure if we would be keeping it, or changing it, or...something. I don’t know. But the version they all used to recite, the one Leia taught me, is this...” Rey’s voice flowed over Finn while he held the image of the pebbles in his mind, reaching out through the Force to feel them. The rigidity of them, the heft of them, solidly connected to the ground below.

“There is no emotion, there is peace.

There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.

There is no passion, there is serenity.

There is no chaos, there is harmony.

There is no death, there is the Force.”

They sat in silence for a moment, letting the words sink into their minds. Finn’s first reaction was awe at the weight of them. In sheer age, in how absolute those laws had been for so long, he felt a twinge of...something. Some connection to something larger than himself, much larger. It was here on this island that the Jedi Order had begun. Had they first said those words here? Was he sitting on the ground where those words had been conceived?

But there was something off, too. Harmony, yes. Knowledge, yes. But...no emotion? No passion? He knew Rey, and he knew himself. Rey was hardly one to stifle her emotions. She was tough, even hard at times, but she felt so strongly, so clearly. Now that he was learning to recognize the Force in others, he could feel her through that as well, when she was close. It was like turning up the volume on a holo, Rey’s joy and sadness and righteous anger and fears all echoing, through the Force, what he observed with his other senses. 

It had been Rey’s passion that had changed the course of the whole war. Her passion had taken her to find Luke Skywalker, to try to save Kylo Ren, to save the whole galaxy. Even Finn, who knew himself to be a little too impulsive and enthusiastic at times, felt stoic next to Rey’s wholehearted devotion. But Rey was also the last Jedi left alive, the one who’d been tasked by, he supposed, the universe, to bring about a new order. If she couldn’t comply with this Code, maybe it was the Code that was wrong.

Finn didn’t know precisely what had happened on Exegol, between Rey and Kylo Ren and the shadowy figure of Emperor Palpatine. He’d felt some of it, felt it like a knife between the ribs when Rey had been...his mind hesitated there, before he let himself finish the thought. Killed. When Rey had been killed. He’d felt it, too, when she’d jolted back to life. It had been the moment he’d been sure, once and for all, that he too was sensitive to the Force. 

Rey had told him some of what had occurred. He knew that it had been Kylo Ren himself who’d healed her, sacrificing himself in the process. Finn had had no idea what to do with that information, and still didn’t, and so had set it aside to be questioned later. But he’d also felt more than that. He had felt some sense of overwhelming connection, like a blast of cool air on a hot day. From what Rey had told him, that had been when she’d defeated Palpatine. He thought of it, when he thought of it, as some sort of blessing from the Jedi spirits. If they didn’t approve of her, then surely they wouldn’t have intervened on Exegol.

Rey continued, finally. Finn quieted his mind to listen, centering it in those three pebbles in front of them. He let himself sink into them, feeling every angle and plane of their internal geometry, as Rey had taught him. 

“But there’s another Code, one that was learned by younglings before they took their initiate trials to become Padawans.” She paused, and then Finn heard the smile in her words. “I suppose for you, the war will have to do as an initiate trial.”

“It better count,” Finn muttered, though with a smile, trying not to break his concentration. His eyes stayed closed, and when he realized he was holding tension in his jaw, he relaxed it.

“The earlier Code goes like this:

Emotion, yet peace.

Ignorance, yet knowledge.

Passion, yet serenity.

Chaos, yet harmony.

Death, yet the Force.”

They were quiet again when she’d finished. Finn replayed the words in his mind, considering each phrase.  _ Emotion, yet peace. _ Was that what Rey had talked about, her thoughts on attachment that didn’t stray into jealousy and possessiveness? It felt like it. 

_ Ignorance, yet knowledge. _ He felt that was him, all the time. There were so many things he knew, and far more that he didn’t. The balance was so tilted toward all he didn’t know that he often did feel ignorant, but maybe in that case,  _ knowledge  _ was the sense to know how little he knew. 

_ Passion, yet serenity.  _ That was Rey all over, particularly these days. She took on everything with a level head, despite her warm-hearted impulsivity. She was never one to panic, always the first to enter a crisis with a clear-eyed determination. It was how Finn hoped he could be, someday. 

_ Chaos, yet harmony. _ As he grew more and more attuned to the Force, he found the sense this made. There was so much happening all around him. If he put his hand on the ground and concentrated, really  _ listened  _ to the Force, it would tell him all sorts of things, happening all at once. Growth, he thought from the little plants that peeked out between rocks on the island. Hunger, from animals and invertebrates. Life, death, a relentless cycle of them both. And in them all, the Force.

_ Death, yet the Force.  _

At the end, this part of the Code was what had nagged at him the most in the original Rey had recited first. To say there was no death was simply untrue, to Finn’s mind. It was one thing for a Jedi to say, one who’d been reared on tales of the long-dead Jedi Masters still appearing in times of crisis, but what about everyone else? Your presence in the Force might linger, or might become something entirely different, but that presence that was  _ you  _ would be gone, for all but those select few Masters. It was inescapable knowledge for a soldier. He’d grown up aware of death, encouraged not to fear it, but to respect it as an eventuality.

But  _ death, yet the Force.  _ That was right. There was death, all around. Dead insects, dead sea creatures, dead plants. Decaying, feeding new lives, some so tiny as to be invisible to the naked eye. There was death, yet there was the Force, the energy that simply moved on to the next task once death had released it. Even those who died in the cold reaches of space, like the pilots in the war (Finn’s mind shied away from that thought, until he made himself return to it with a faint frown) had returned to the Force, their energy spinning away in the void, to eventually collide with asteroids and planets and stars, passing on to them. 

“Repeat it after me.” Rey’s voice, soft though it was, cut through his musings. It was enough of a break to make him marvel, very briefly, at how much longer he was able to sit and think now, and how much deeper the thoughts, after only a week. 

“Emotion, yet peace.”

“Emotion, yet peace.” As he said it, he felt suffused with warmth, as though he were sitting in the sunlight, and not inside a cool, stone hut with the rain pounding on the roof. It was so sudden he almost opened his eyes, startled, but instead he straightened, shoulders settling back and chin lifting.

“Ignorance, yet knowledge.” 

“Ignorance, yet knowledge.” The warmth seemed to settle in his core, rising into his chest with every deep, slow breath.

“Passion, yet serenity.” 

“Passion, yet serenity.” His hands slowly eased off of his knees, fingertips coming to rest on the stone floor beneath them, unconsciously seeking a closer connection with the planet below. He could  _ feel  _ the earth below the stone, a churning, vital sensation of how it teemed with life.

“Chaos, yet harmony.”

“Chaos, yet harmony.” There was chaos there below his hands, bacterial lives being born and snuffed out every second, insects and invertebrates churning through the soil. But there was also the sense of how it all fit together. The heat in his fingertips was almost too much to bear, while at the same time he could tell that his skin was cool against the stone.

“Death, yet the Force.”

“Death, yet the Force.” On the last word, it was as if the heat surged through his fingertips and into the ground below. His eyes did flutter open then, as warmth poured down his arms and wrapped around the very center of him. He blinked in astonishment at seeing the pebbles floating in front of him, then slowly turned to look further. His suitcase, with its stacks of neatly folded clothes, was floating. His mattress was floating. His boots, sitting by the door to dry off, were floating. And there was Rey, smiling at him with a peaceful sort of joy. That was when he realized that he, too, was floating several inches off the ground, still seated. 

Then there was a knock on the door, and everything fell with a clatter as his concentration broke. Finn winced as he landed sharply too, his tailbone taking the brunt of the short fall. He didn’t get irritated, still halfway in a daze, but he did blink a few times and rub at his sore backside, reorienting himself as Rey opened the door. A dripping wet Poe ducked inside, pulling a circuit board out from under his cloak. “Found the problem—oh, sorry, were you, uh…”

He looked between Finn and Rey, at a loss for the right words as he gestured at Finn sitting on the floor. Finn laughed then, feeling unaccountably light and still warmed through by whatever it was that had happened when he’d recited the Jedi Code. “Yeah, but it’s okay. I think we did what we needed to do.” The last part of the sentence tilted up questioningly, as he glanced over at Rey with his eyebrows raised.

“I think so, yes. Can I see it?” She held out a hand to Poe, and he handed over the circuit board. She glanced it over, shaking her head as BB-8 zipped inside and Poe tossed the soaked cloak outside rather than dripping water all over Finn’s hut. He nudged a porg out of the doorframe and shut the door, while Finn clambered to his feet. 

“I think water got in the casing. Caused a—”

“—short circuit,” Rey finished, nodding. “That’s it, all right. Fortunately for you, I know where we’ve got some spare parts that aren’t being used. As long as you’re both prepared to go without the shower.”

“I think we can scrounge up some water elsewhere.” Poe smiled wryly, running a hand lightly over his hair and then theatrically shaking rainwater off of his fingertips. BB-8 let out a short, irritated buzz of agreement. The droid never liked operating under wet conditions, although his casing was thoroughly weatherproof. 

“All right, well...take the tools over to my place, and Finn, you come with me to get what we need. Poe, just...try not to get anything wet, all right?”

Finn had to laugh at Poe’s expression at that, as he and Rey wrapped up in their own cloaks and put on their boots to step out into the downpour. It hadn’t lightened up at all. It seemed, in fact, to be worse. “Rey, you know I don’t know mechanical stuff, right? You sure you don’t want Poe?”

“I don’t need you for your technical skills, Finn, I need you to stand over me, hold up that cloak, and keep me dry.” She grinned over her shoulder, as they picked their way over the slick, wet rocks. “And I wanted to talk to you. How did that feel?”

“Just now? It felt…” he trailed off, thinking back over it. Even now, he still felt lightly disconnected from the world, as if he were watching himself from a distance while he walked through the rain. “...Warm. Connected. Like I could feel the whole planet. Talk to it.”

Rey nodded thoughtfully, peering at him from under the hood of her own cloak as he caught up and drew even with her. “Have you ever felt like that before?”

“Not quite. Not...to that degree. But I’ve felt...flashes of it.” His brow furrowed as he thought, looking down at his feet to avoid tripping as the ground became more uneven, slick with moss and rain. “Like when you were in trouble on Exegol. Or when I knew we had to take out their communications tower to take them down. When I make stuff float. Or…” Finn trailed off again, unsure of if it counted, and unsure why he even hesitated.

After a moment of silence, Rey said, conversationally, “BB-8 told me you went to help Poe last night, when he wasn’t well.”

“Yeah…”

“How did you know he wasn’t?”

Finn’s mouth curled up in a lopsided smile, eyes still down on his steps, though he could feel Rey watching him. “Well, his light was on. But…”

“You felt something?”

“Yeah. Like when you...on Exegol. Not that strong, but yeah. Just...something woke me up and told me to go look.” He did look at Rey then, as they drew up to the site of the shower and came to a halt, ignoring the rain pounding on their hoods. “Is that...do you feel like that all the time? Like for everyone?” He didn’t know how she could stand it, if it was. The urge to wake up, to go to the window, to do something, had been so strong. If he felt that way about every person in distress he might encounter, how would he cope?

“Not everyone, no. I pick up something from everyone, yes, especially if I’m trying to, but I can ignore it when I need to. But it’s much…louder from those I know. Those I care about.” She turned to face Finn, her face tilted up to look at him as rain dripped onto her cheeks. “That’s what I think about, when I think about attachment. People will become attached to each other. That’s unavoidable, whatever the Jedi Order thought. I think trying to sever that attachment, that’s where the danger lies. So I don’t want you to try to avoid that sort of thing, Finn. Just tell me it ever feels wrong. If it ever hurts.”

Finn nodded, swallowing. Then he patted the upright boulder the moisture converter was perched on. “Let’s do this and get out of the rain. My boots are never gonna dry out.” He could see from Rey’s amused expression that she knew a change of subject when she saw one, but she accepted it, heading for a smaller boulder they could scramble up first.

***

Shan’Jora awoke in the middle of Ryloth’s night, bleary-eyed and troubled by strange dreams. The Twi’lek rolled over to search for her clock, reading the glowing numerals. She felt strange, but still tired. Must have been the dreams that had woken her. Something about a figure dressed in black...unsettling. 

She felt like something was escaping her, some sense she’d left something undone. She tapped her fingers on the bedside stand, trying to remember what it might be. Finally she brightened, reaching out to set her alarm before she rolled back over, closed her eyes, and went back to sleep. 

***

“Why won’t it stop raining?” Finn groaned as he and Poe trekked back up the long hill to the comms relay. Poe gave him a wry look, and time to remember that he was still in a hooded cloak, while Poe had abandoned his when it had become waterlogged and was just in a drenched jacket, shirt, and pants. Rey had wanted some time to herself to study, so Poe had decided to do the repair himself, Finn volunteering to tag along as an extra pair of hands. 

“This is nothing. Rainy season on Yavin IV lasts 90 days or so. And the dry season...isn’t, really. Still rains every couple of days.” He blinked against the present rain, pausing to swipe droplets out of his eyelashes so he could see before resuming. “You just get used to everything being wet. But you do go a little crazy by the end of it.”

“90 days?! Man. I would go more than a little crazy. That explains you.” Finn laughed when Poe elbowed him in the side, grinning. “It’s all jungle there, right?”

“Mostly, yeah. A few grasslands. Some swamps. It’s pretty hot. Definitely a lot hotter than here.” Poe was actually getting pretty cold, but he needed to get this done. Hopefully the tarp-swathed circuit board he was carrying under one arm would do the trick, and then he could go inside, make some tea, and get dry and warm. It sounded heavenly.

“What about where you lived? Like, your...village, or whatever.”

Poe glanced sidelong at him, amused by all the questions, but Finn seemed genuinely curious. “Village about sums it up. Might be a little too grandiose, to be honest. It was just a few families and homesteads, at least when I was a kid. We got a lot of visitors, because that was where the Rebel base was, in the old Jedi temple, but...yeah, it was a small place. In the jungle, but they made a good sized clearing. Farmed it. We had a koyo fruit orchard.”

“The Jedi temple...did you live near it?” 

“Oh, yeah. You could see it from home, if you climbed a tree. Which I did, all the time.” Poe smiled at the memory, shaking his head. The purple-trunked Massassi trees had been his favorites, and they were taller than AT-ATs and almost as thick around as their house. Climbing them had been more daring than most kids could have stomached. He’d gone all the way to the top on more than one. “My parents must’ve been sure I’d never make it to adulthood. Kind of a miracle I did.”

“Your mom was a pilot, right?” Finn sounded a little self-conscious for bringing her up, so Poe flashed him a reassuring smile. 

“Yeah, a good one. Leia’s personal pilot for a while after the war, led the air defense of Naboo when what was left of the Empire tried to take it. Her name was Shara Bey, you can look her up in the history holos.” It had been so long since she’d died that there wasn’t any sting left, really, in talking about her. He just felt proud, and more aware of her ring, hanging from the chain around his neck. “Once she retired from the Alliance she flew for the civil defense force the old Rebels started up on Yavin IV. She started teaching me to fly when I was about six, in her A-wing.”

“She took a six year old up in a fighter? Man, you are definitely her son.” Finn shook his head in disbelief. Poe laughed, shrugging. 

“Hey, it worked! Here I am, still alive, still flying.”

“And your dad? What’d he do?”

“He was part of the ground forces for the Rebellion. Sergeant Kes Dameron. He was in the Pathfinders, you’ve heard of them?” Poe felt more of a twinge in talking about his father, that loss more recent. But the conversation felt good, felt intimate in a safe sort of way. 

“Oh, we heard of them. In training simulations.” Finn smiled wryly. “Special forces, right?”

“Right. Han Solo’s command. Dad was with the group that seized the Imperial generator on Endor.” Even though his parents’ deeds were none of his doing, it was still gratifying to see Finn look impressed.

“Wow, so they knew all the big shots, huh? Did you ever meet them when you were a kid? Leia and Han, I mean.”

“Oh, yeah. A few times. They’d come back to the area, talk with the Rebel veterans...I mean, I didn’t know them well or anything, but meet them, yeah.” And their son, Ben, before he’d gone off to train with his uncle. He’d been a few years younger, an awkward, lanky kid with a nose too big for his face. But he’d been nice. A nice kid, Poe had thought, with the condescension of a child only a few years older, when they were shoved together to play while the adults talked. Or hang out, when they were a little older and Ben had shot up to be taller than the older Poe. 

It was still difficult to square the knowledge of who Ben had grown up to be with those memories. He was glad he hadn’t known, when he and Kylo Ren had been face to face (face to mask, really) on Jakku and on the _Finalizer._ That would have just added more pain and confusion. But Ben—Kylo Ren—must have remembered him, surely, at least once they’d uncovered his identity. That made his skin prickle to think about now, like he was being watched. 

“So did you always know you wanted to be...like them? Military, a pilot?” Finn’s voice brought him back out of his thoughts, and he nodded as they picked their way up the slope, two thirds of the way there now. He could tell BB-8 was waiting for them up there, because there was a trail of porgs in front of them now, all determinedly hopping and hurling themselves up the hill. 

“Oh, yeah. Definitely. I mean, aside from a few, uh, rebellious moments. Mom and Dad, they believed in the New Republic. So did I, until…” he trailed off, shaking his head.

“Until what?” Finn sounded so innocent. Poe realized that of course, Finn wouldn’t know anything about the politics of the outside world that had led up to the war. Nothing that hadn’t been filtered through an Imperial or First Order lens, propaganda designed to keep their child soldiers happy and loyal. 

“Until they failed to respond to the growing threat posed by the First Order. I was getting orders I didn’t understand. Orders to ignore things, to back down, to not go after First Order ships that were hijacking merchants and private travelers…” He shook his head, remembering the anger and disappointment of those days bitterly. “Finally I got an order to forget what I’d seen. Turn the other way for the sake of my career. I couldn’t do it. Luckily, the right person heard about it in time and pointed me toward the Resistance. Toward Leia.”

“You were willing to leave? Over that?” 

As they veered off the path on the last part of the journey to the comms relay, now picking their way past the porgs gathering around BB-8, Poe glanced over at Finn, seeing the genuine puzzlement on his face.

“Well...yeah. It wasn’t right. They were putting the galaxy at risk, and I didn’t understand why. I couldn’t be part of it anymore.” He shrugged, not sure how to better explain it. It didn’t seem to clear anything up for Finn.

“But they’d just...let you leave? Just like that?”

Understanding dawned. “Yeah, buddy. I was career, at that point. I’d served my tours and I was free to go. That’s how the Republic worked. In peacetime, anyway. Did anyone ever leave…?”

“The First Order? Only out an airlock.” Finn sounded grimmer than usual as they approached BB-8 and the comms relay, sheltered under a temporary tent Poe had rigged out of some poles and a tarp. They had to go slowly, scooting porgs aside with their feet. “Damn, how many of these things are there?”

“More every day, seems like. I have to keep kicking them out of my place. I keep thinking we’re gonna get back to Ryloth, I’ll open up my bag, and porgs will just…” He mimed an explosion of fluttering wings with his hands. Finn laughed as they ducked under the tent, Poe squatting down beside the device to unwrap the circuit board. Realizing his hands were too wet to handle it at the moment, Poe glanced around and then wiped them on a docile, nearby, and—most importantly—dry porg. The bird squawked, but didn’t flee, used to the humans at this point. 

“Hey, found the use for them.” Poe popped the casing open again, then set back on his heels and rubbed his hands briskly together, breathing on them a few times for warmth. He needed steady fingers to do this, and at this point he could barely feel his. No wonder; he could see his breath, fogging in the air. Some summer Ahch-To had.

“You cold?” Finn watched over his shoulder, Poe aware of how close he was behind him and trying not to let it disturb his concentration as he reached into the comms casing to switch the power off.

“Yep. So let’s get this done and get the hell inside. Can you take this off?” He patted the top half of the casing, a heavy metal box. Finn nodded and stepped in, hefting it with a grunt as Poe helped lift it off of its base. “Beebee, help him find the hole in that and solder it. Gotta be a crack in the seam or something. Finn...try not to drip into that.”

Finn shrugged off his cloak and set it aside to help prevent that, as he and BB-8 began to closely examine the casing to find the leak. Poe turned his attention to the innards of the box, locating the slot where the circuit board they were replacing had been before. He paused when there was a low rumble of thunder, glancing overhead through the clear tarp at the blurry, clouded sky. That was something to keep an eye on. Didn’t want to be caught out on a rocky promontory in a lightning storm. 

Poe hesitated before reaching into the casing again. His waxed canvas jacket was soaked and heavy, making it hard to move without dripping everywhere. He shucked it off, not thrilled about the temperature, but at least not as restricted in his movements. Moving as quickly as cold, stiff fingers would allow, he used a bit of toweling he’d stuffed into the wrappings of the new circuit board to dry the traces of water he found, taking care not to lean too far forward and risk his hair or shirt dripping into the inner workings of the comms array. 

The new board wasn’t quite the same make as the old one. It would do, but he had to fish some connection converters out of the toolbox, glancing up again when there was a sharper crack of thunder. “Finn, you found anything yet?”

“I think so. Beebee, see here?” The droid trained his tool light on the other side of the spot Finn indicated, moving it until Finn spoke up. “There it is. You’re shining through. Got it?” As BB-8 began to solder the hole closed, a flash of lightning overhead, followed shortly by a loud crack of lightning, made them all look up. That was still out to sea, Poe calculated, but it was moving quickly. 

He hastily finished connecting the new circuit board, checking the connections with a tug once before slotting it into place. One last sweep for any water and then he threw the power switch again, watching as the indicator lights came back on one by one, bright without the casing to cover them. “Looking good. Hurry it up, you guys, we need to get off this hill.”

BB-8 chirped as he finished soldering the hole. Poe waved him over to the interface. “Go on, buddy, send it, we’ll take care of this part.” He was anxious to get the droid off the hill, knowing electrical damage could be a disaster for him. BB-8 rolled over and plugged in, chirping when the message began to transmit. Good. Problem solved. Poe went over to Finn, crouching down to help him lift the heavy casing. 

“Seems to be working, let’s go!” They crab-walked over to replace the casing, Finn leaning to watch as they lowered it into place to ensure it was aligned. They nearly dropped it the last few inches when lightning flashed with a nearly-simultaneous thunder clap that left Poe’s ears ringing. That was far too close for comfort. 

Crouching, he hurriedly replaced the screws holding the casing to its base, calling out to BB-8 as Finn collected his cloak and Poe’s jacket. “You done yet, pal?” When BB-8 beeped in the affirmative, Poe waved him away. “Go, go, get somewhere safe already. We’ll be right down.” He grunted as he finished tightening the last screw, tossing the ratchet driver back into the tool kit before standing. BB-8 whizzed past them, clearing a path through the porgs as he headed rapidly down the hill. 

Poe turned to find Finn, but Finn was already approaching, holding out his cloak. “Poe, uh...you look like you’re freezing. Here. I mean, it’s wet, but...”

They should really get off this hill, Poe knew. On the other hand, he  _ was _ freezing, in just a thin shirt and pants now, both thoroughly soaked, and starting to shiver. He hesitated, but he nodded, reaching for it. Finn surprised him by swinging the cloak out and around him, stepping close to settle it over his shoulders for him. He held still, unsure how to react, then reached for the clasp himself. “Oh, hey, uh...thanks.” 

“No problem.”

They looked at each other for a moment, Poe suddenly aware of his heart speeding up, his cheeks faintly warming despite the cold. Why wasn’t Finn saying anything? Or stepping back? Or should  _ he _ step back? They were standing closer than usual, close enough that Poe had to tilt his chin up slightly to meet Finn’s eyes, the younger man an inch or two taller. He should probably step back. Shouldn’t he?

“Hey, uh...Poe. I’ve been meaning to—”

They both started when lightning flashed so close by it was like a tear opened up in the world just to the side, the thunder loud enough to make their ears hurt. 

“...It can wait,” Finn finished, his eyes wide as Poe nodded fervently, both of them turning to start down the hill at a run. They couldn’t sprint full out over the uneven, slick ground, rain pounding down harder than ever. Poe nearly ran into Finn’s back when the younger man blurted out, “Tools!” and turned back, hurrying to retrieve the tool box. 

Poe cast an anxious look up at the sky, the clouds a deep, roiling mixture of purple and charcoal gray. The wind was picking up, already ripping at the tarp tent he’d rigged. Some flaps of it were streaming loose, ripping into tatters. “Hurry it up!”

Finn grabbed up a wrench that he must have left on the ground earlier, shoving it into the box and snapping it shut before he stood up to run back to join Poe. “Go, go!” But Poe hesitated, not wanting to leave Finn behind even by a few dozen meters. 

“Come on,” he muttered under his breath, and then he looked at the sky again just in time to be blinded by it. 

The light was like nothing he’d ever experienced, searing across his vision so swiftly that he was left with spots obscuring most of his vision once he’d dared to open his eyes, while the thunder that accompanied it was as loud as any explosion he’d ever witnessed. The ground shook under his feet and made him stumble backwards, unseeing, his stinging ears swamped with tinnitus and the smell of ozone sharp in his nostrils.

It took a moment for him to reorient himself, blinking furiously as the spots in his vision began to shrink, letting him see again. “Finn?” His own voice sounded far away, almost underwater to his ears. He expected to find Finn close by, looking as startled as he must. But as his vision adjusted, he realized Finn was nowhere to be found. “Finn?!” It was a shout this time as he frantically looked side to side. 

His heart skipped a beat when he realized that part of the cliff’s edge, halfway between him and the comms array, looked different than it had before. There was a scorched patch of rock, and in the center of it was a sharp line there hadn’t been before, where the stone had split and slid away to tumble down to the water below. A large patch of the surrounding ground had done the same, and part of Poe’s mind reminded him the remainder could be unstable as he sprinted toward it. The rest of his mind loudly shouted that it didn’t care, as he scrambled to a halt on the edge and looked over it, still shouting Finn’s name. 

For one agonizing moment he didn’t see anything, just the far-below foam of the waves crashing against the rocky island cliffs. Then there was something that caught the corner of his eye, some five or six meters below. It was a boot, hanging out over the void, and still attached to a leg. Poe dropped down quickly to his stomach to scoot out further, the wind sending his hair streaming into his eyes until he swiped it away with one hand, frantically scanning the cliffside below. There. There it was again, and if he leaned out far enough and craned his neck…

He almost had to lean too far, precariously dangling over the drop, but finally he could see Finn, lying sprawled on his back on a ledge below. By some miracle, he looked to be intact, but his temple was bloodied and his eyes were closed, his body unmoving. Poe froze for one awful second, hands trembling as they gripped the edge of the cliff below him. Then he shoved back, hurriedly shedding the cloak before crawling on hands and knees along the edge until he could find a suitable handhold to start climbing down.

The one thing that had always gotten him rebukes from his flight instructors hadn’t had anything to do with his actual flying skills. It was written in every file he’d ever had: notes, disciplinary infractions, and sternly worded letters about his “near-suicidal recklessness,” to quote one commanding officer. Poe never thought much about the dangerousness of what he was doing while he was doing it. That was for later. The present moment was for doing what needed to be done, which didn’t always correspond with what was safe or allowed. 

This was still a bit much, even for him, and later he’d realize how dangerous it had been for him to go over the edge of a cliff with no safety gear, no rope, no pick, nothing but his hands and feet in the middle of a dangerous thunderstorm. He flinched and clung tightly to the cliff face as another lightning strike sizzled nearby, striking further up toward the top of the hill, the thunder vibrating the stones under his hands. One deep breath and he continued, glancing at Finn in between searching for his next hand and foot holds. Luckily, there were plenty of both, but the process felt intolerably slow with Finn lying unconscious below him. His mind would not let him consider any other possibility than unconsciousness. 

It felt like an eternity before he reached the ledge, the muscles of his arms and chest screaming at him and scraped-up fingers shaking as he finally stepped onto solid ground. He crouched down, trying to keep close to the cliff face as he crawled the short distance over to Finn, battered by the wind that was even stronger out here above the ocean. His eyes frantically flicked over Finn’s body, cataloging the visible damage. Some tears in his clothes, some abrasions and bruises, but he wasn’t seeing anything like a compound fracture. He froze, though, when he realized he hadn’t yet seen Finn breathe. 

“Finn? Finn!” He hurried the last short distance to reach Finn’s face, his knees complaining harshly and his hands already scraped from his climb. He lowered himself down to listen at Finn’s slightly open mouth, his nose. There...there! The faintest of breaths, though not very steady. He reached for his friend’s neck, feeling for a pulse, while his other hand patted Finn’s face, not very gently. “Come on, buddy, come on…”

The pulse was there, but it wasn’t very steady or strong either. Poe dashed terrified tears out of his eyes with the back of his hand and steadied himself with a sniff, trying to decide what to do next. He had basic field medicine training, but this was far from an ideal situation. He didn’t dare move Finn with what could be a spinal injury, but they weren’t safe where they were. Then again, he was pretty sure that without some kind of equipment, he also wouldn’t be able to haul an unconscious Finn up the cliff. Finn outweighed him, for one thing. 

“Finn...please wake up.” Okay. Tilt back his head to open his airway. Then he moved back down Finn’s body, checking his torso and legs more thoroughly for any injury. None found, beyond some torn spots in his pants that bared scraped skin. He hesitated, still worried about Finn’s spine, but finally grabbed his legs one at a time, crossing one over the other toward him to begin the process of rolling the younger man onto his side. 

Once he had Finn turned onto his side he lay down beside him, scooting up until they were face to face to check his breathing and pulse again. Poe’s own heart was hammering almost painfully in his chest, his breathing harsh and fast as he verified both were still present. They were, to his wild relief, but Finn still wasn’t stirring. Thunder cracked overhead as he took Finn’s face in both his hands, no longer even noticing the rain sheeting down on them. 

Surely Rey would have sensed something going awry and was even now on her way to them. But what if she arrived too late? He’d seen her use the Force to heal before, but was there a limit to it? He didn’t even know what was wrong with Finn, why he was still unconscious. He’d hit his head, that much was plain, but it didn’t look disastrous on the outside. “Come on, come on…” he muttered, staring into Finn’s face as if he could will him back to life. “Finn, please...I need you here. Please, wake up, I love you.” On the last words his voice cracked, and he curled in on himself to touch his forehead to Finn’s, eyes squeezing shut.

A moment later, when Finn took a sharp and gasping breath, Poe startled back, still holding the other man’s face between his hands. “Finn?”

As if in response, Finn’s eyelashes fluttered, and then his eyes opened, puzzled and groggy. “Poe…?” he croaked, only to be cut off when Poe, joy and relief fizzing through him, leaned back in and kissed him hard enough to bruise his own lip on his teeth. 

It was the most heartfelt kiss Poe had ever given anyone, and he had kissed and been kissed an uncountable number of times in his lifetime, never conservative with his affections. Finn’s lush lips felt as good as he’d always imagined they would, since the moment he’d removed his helmet on the  _ Finalizer.  _ It was like seeing fireworks as a kid, like eating your favorite dessert, like winning the war, all at once. 

Then he realized what he’d done and froze, drawing back, his heart thudding. Finn was staring at him, looking as stunned as he felt, lips slightly parted. Poe’s stomach dropped, and he began to pull away, hands up in surrender as he moved to sit up. “I’m so sorry. Finn, I don’t know why...I mean, I was just...really relieved…please, let’s pretend that didn’t happen, okay?”

Finn watched him wordlessly, beginning to gingerly pull up onto his elbow as Poe spoke. He glanced over his shoulder, registering the drop behind them even as Poe reached to steady him with a hand on his arm. Finn looked down at the hand, which stayed there as he carefully picked himself up onto his knees. Then he took it in his own hands, turning it to examine the scrapes on Poe’s palm and knuckles.

Poe watched, his mouth dry and his face flushed with mortification and fear. Why the hell had he done that? Why had he risked it all like that for one kiss? What the hell had happened to his self-control? Why was Finn moving closer to him?

Why  _ was  _ Finn moving closer to him?

That was when Finn, suddenly face to face with him and still holding his hand, slid his free hand to the back of Poe’s head and pulled him in for a long, thorough kiss.

Poe went rigid with shock for an instant, the flash of white light behind his eyelids as they fluttered instinctively closed almost as bright as the bolt of lightning had been. Then he melted into the kiss, his lips parting to let in Finn’s insistent tongue as, despite the cold rain, he flushed hotly from his hairline to what felt like the tips of his toes. Finn tasted like rainwater and earth, like sweet grass and koyo fruit, like everything he’d dreamed about for...how long had it been now? Three years? 

They finally pulled apart only when both needed to breathe, panting for air as they parted, Finn’s fingers still tangled in Poe’s curls. Their eyes met as they opened again, and Poe felt laid bare, like Finn could read the contents of his soul in that moment. And for once, Poe was ready to show him everything.

Finn was the first to break the silence, a slow smile curling his mouth. “So...that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”


	10. Chapter X

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Finn…” Poe started, then stopped. Held up a finger, taking a breath, then stopped again, swallowing convulsively. Finn was starting to reach for his upraised hand, gently disentangling his fingers from Poe’s hair first, when Poe finally found his voice. “If this is some kind of joke, I’m pushing you the rest of the way off this cliff.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters for you this time! I originally wrote it as one, but it got ridiculously long. Also...I have updated the tags to indicate some explicit content. If you want to skip over that sort of thing, watch the notes and I'll warn you where to skip ahead.

“So...that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Finn could hear his own pulse in his ears as he smiled at Poe, not quite believing what he’d done. The other man looked so stunned that for a moment, Finn panicked, wondering if he’d horribly misjudged the situation. But no, Poe had kissed him first, and had  _ definitely  _ kissed him back. Hard. He could still feel the light burn of the pilot’s stubble on his own chin. He had not been imagining Poe’s enthusiasm. 

“Finn…” Poe started, then stopped. Held up a finger, taking a breath, then stopped again, swallowing convulsively. Finn was starting to reach for his upraised hand, gently disentangling his fingers from Poe’s hair first, when Poe finally found his voice. “If this is some kind of joke, I’m pushing you the rest of the way off this cliff.” 

“Poe...no.” Finn’s fingers closed over his, steadily pushing his hand back down. Thunder rumbled overhead and they both looked up, squinting against the rain, but it was more distant this time, the black cloud above the island moving quickly. Finn resumed, meeting Poe’s brown eyes with his own. “No, it’s not a joke. I wouldn’t do that.”

Poe still didn’t quite look like he believed what was happening. He looked, in fact, exactly the way he’d looked the first time Finn had spoken to him, confused and afraid of some sort of trap or mind game, before he’d really understood that Finn was there to get them both out. The former stormtrooper felt a surge of warmth go through him at that realization, despite the cold rain and the fierce ache in his head. Aches all over his body, really. He was sure he’d be finding new bruises all week. 

He couldn’t bring himself to care about that now, though. At the moment, all he cared about was making the doubt all over Poe’s face go away. So he lifted his hand to cup the pilot’s chin, meeting his gaze deliberately. Stars, but Poe had beautiful eyes. They went even larger than usual as Finn’s fingers slid along his jawline, thumb coming to rest right under the center of his lower lip. 

“Poe,” Finn repeated firmly. “I promise.” Then he leaned in and kissed him again, gently this time. Poe held very still, though his lips parted and his eyes fluttered closed, staying that way until Finn pulled back. 

“How long...?” Poe finally managed, eyes opening slowly and his voice hoarse. Finn’s hand slid off of his face and no, he wasn’t imagining things, Poe’s head definitely tilted ever so slightly into his touch as he withdrew. There was something in the Force, too, something Finn didn’t have the experience to name, but it felt like a hum of connection between them. 

How long? Not long enough, was the honest answer. He’d been too new to the larger galaxy, too distracted by all the new sights and experiences and people to recognize precisely how he felt about Poe. Outside of the First Order, he had started to love all the new people in his life. He’d quickly become devoted to Rey, in a way that he had initially thought was romantic, but now understood had something to do with the Force. There had been something in the universe that had whispered in his ear,  _ there, that one. She’s important. Stay with her. _ And of course, now they were the closest of friends, and more. 

Rose had taken some more time, but he loved her spirit, her fierce devotion to the cause of freedom across the galaxy. She was funny, she was warm, they had survived so much danger together—he did love her. Just not like that. Janna, he had felt such easy kinship with right from the beginning, their stories so similar. But Poe…

Poe had been the first person to look at him and see something besides another stormtrooper, to be trained or to be feared. The first person in the galaxy, as far as Finn knew. He’d looked Finn in the eye, sized him up, and—as hurting and terrified as he must have been at that point—he’d decided to trust him. Had even given him his name, while they were fleeing the  _ Finalizer _ . 

They’d been through so much together. They’d been brothers in arms, the greatest of friends. When had it changed to something more? When had he realized that his feelings for the man in front of him were so much more than friendly or brotherly? 

“I don’t know.” That was the honest answer, though he could see Poe didn’t quite trust it, his brow furrowing. “But…a while now. I just...didn’t know how to bring it up.” Poe still looked so confused, it was almost funny, but also starting to worry him. “Do you...I mean...is that okay? I thought you were feeling the same way, but if you’re not…”

“No! No, I am.” Poe squeezed the hand still holding his, almost too tightly, and gave Finn a reassuring smile. “I definitely am. Feeling the same way. I’m just...I didn’t think you…” Poe trailed off, then gave his head a quick shake and reached up with his free hand to gingerly touch Finn’s temple, where the skin had split. “Okay, we can talk later, because you’re still bleeding, and we should probably get off this, uh...cliff.”

They both looked up at that. The rain was starting to slow, the thunder growing increasingly distant, but it still looked like a harrowing climb. From this angle Finn couldn’t spot a rope or even many handholds, which begged the question… ”How did you get down here?” 

He looked back at Poe then, and gathered up both of his hands. He’d noticed the scrapes on them before, but now he gave them a closer look, realizing he must have gotten the injuries while climbing down the rocks. One of the knees of his pants was ripped, the skin behind it visibly scraped and bruised. Poe just shrugged, though, gesturing back upward with a jerk of his chin. “Climbed. How did you land here, do you remember?”

Finn thought back, sifting through the flashes of memory he could isolate. “There was a really bright light...lightning, I guess. The ground went out from under me, but…” He hesitated, not sure how to explain it. “The Force...helped me out.”

It was one way to put it. What he remembered doing, when he felt the ground going out from under his feet, was hurling himself forward in a desperate bid to hang onto the edge of the crumbling cliff. But the sheet of rock under his fingers had peeled away, tumbling into space and taking him with it. That’s when the Force had seemed to take over his body, shouting instructions: run  _ up _ the huge chunk of cliff as it was falling, only momentum keeping him in contact with its surface. He’d jumped off the top of it, onto a smaller boulder as it tumbled past, and then pushed off of that as well to aim himself back toward the cliff wall. It must have been the Force that had told him where there was a ledge to land on, although it hadn’t quite saved him from a crack on the head, it seemed.

Poe accepted that answer, nodding and then releasing Finn’s hands, only to wrap him in a strong hug. His chin rested on Finn’s shoulder, Finn feeling his breath warm in his ear as he murmured. “I thought I’d lost you. Thought we’d gotten through the war and everything and now I was losing you to a...a stupid storm.”

“You didn’t. I’m right here. Not going anywhere.” Finn realized Poe was shaking. Delayed shock and probably cold, he thought, as the pilot was once again just in shirt and pants, soaked through with rain and clinging to his body. Normally, Finn would appreciate that view, but in the circumstances he was more worried about how to get them both safely up that cliff. He gave Poe a reassuring squeeze in return and then peered up toward the cliff’s edge again, just in time to see a familiar face appear over the edge, pale with concern. 

“Rey!” He yelled and waved, and Poe pulled away to look up as well, one hand lifting to try to keep the rain out of his eyes. His other hand dropped to hold Finn’s, and Finn glanced down at it in surprise, then smiled. He squeezed Poe’s fingers in return, and was rewarded with a sidelong smile as Rey shouted down to them.

“Hang on, I’ll get a rope!” She disappeared from view again.

It took another twenty minutes or so to get back up onto firm ground. Poe insisted on sending Finn up the rope Rey procured first. The first few feet were difficult, before Finn felt the light touch of the Force as Rey took on some of his weight, making the rest of the climb nearly effortless. He clambered to his feet at the top and hugged Rey tightly before turning back to look for Poe.

It took a little convincing to get Poe to consent to Rey’s assistance, but he joined them soon enough, his teeth visibly chattering as Finn stepped in to wrap him in the discarded cloak again, over his protests. 

“No, I don’t need—Rey,” Poe directed over Finn’s shoulder, waving a hand to get her attention as she untied the rope from the boulder she’d hitched it to, then pointing at Finn’s head. “He needs some medical attention. Can you...you know...fix it? Do the Force thing?”

Finn swiped at his hand to pull it down as Rey approached, coiling the rope over her arm. “C’mon, I’m sure the med kit has some bacta spray, that’ll take care of it.” Poe didn’t look happy, but he let Finn take his hand. Let him keep it, too. Their eyes met, and Finn felt something zip up his spine. Rey eyed them both as she came to a stop by them, her gaze flicking down to their joined hands, then up to Finn’s face with a faint smile. 

“Come on, both of you. The kit’s in my hut. We’ll take a look out of the rain.”

They followed her down the hill, Finn feeling slightly self-conscious but keeping his grip on Poe’s hand. A little distance down the hill he stepped closer, sliding his arm over Poe’s shoulders. It felt daring, somehow, even if Rey was the only one there who could possibly see, and who could keep secrets from Rey anyway? Finn very rarely felt shy, but he felt it a little now, and wondered if Poe did too. Then Poe’s arm slipped around his waist, and he was jolted by his own surge of happiness. It felt so new, but also familiar.

_ Had it been only two nights ago that he’d walked Poe home after the pilot had overindulged after dinner? He’d been worried about Poe’s state of mind, but not so worried that he had been unaware of the weight of Poe’s arm across his shoulder, or the firm muscles of his friend’s back and waist under his own arm. Finn didn’t know exactly when he’d started noticing that sort of thing when it came to Poe, but it had been rising to a distracting level as of late. Very distracting. Especially when he was also tipsy. _

_ “The stars are really pretty out here. Real pretty,” Poe had insisted on pointing out to him, refusing to move until he acknowledged it. Finn had been surprised when Poe reached out to try to push his chin up, his breath catching at the unexpected touch. He hastily turned the sound into an exasperated sigh as he looked up, and they admired the stars together. _

_ The truth was, Poe was endearing as hell when he was drunk, his guard down and his warmth right there on the surface, not hidden behind a layer of wry wit and bravado. His cheeks were flushed and his hair wild, and there was a spark to his eyes that had been missing of late. He seemed younger than his age—or maybe this was how he should be, and when sober he was aged by experience and responsibilities beyond his years. He laughed more easily, talked more freely. _

_ Finn was trying very, very hard not to notice all of that. For one thing, it would be wrong to take advantage of someone much more inebriated than he was. For another, he still hadn’t quite decided what to do about these feelings he’d been having. Sure, Rey seemed open to the idea of letting her Jedi apprentice have some attachments, but he wasn’t yet sure just how open. Friends were one thing, even friends as close as family, but a...what, a lover? A partner? He couldn’t even decide quite what he wanted Poe to be to him. _

_ Then there were Poe’s responsibilities. He was more than busy since the war ended, he was swamped. Why would Finn want to add to all of the worries on his mind? And of course, he didn’t know what _ Poe _ wanted. Didn’t want to find out if it wasn’t what he wanted.  _

_ So no, this was not the time to push any boundaries. They talked, they walked, and the alcohol loosened both their inhibitions enough to share more private information. The relief that had flooded Finn when Poe hadn’t just denied any attraction to Rey, but had sounded honestly startled by the very idea, had been illuminating. So he did have some idea of what he wanted, after all, and that desire did not include Poe being attached to anyone else.  _

_ But there had still been another Bantha in the room. Finn knew perfectly well that Poe had been struggling more than he’d been letting on, and had been frustratingly private about it. And while he couldn’t make a move on a drunk man, he could at least bring himself to ask a few more questions. Even drunk, Poe was evasive, refusing to get too close to the subject at hand, until Finn had, in his exasperation, literally pinned him against a wall. _

_ In his defense, Poe was having trouble standing upright at that point, and Finn had mostly meant just to keep him on his feet. But there was no denying that his heart sped up when he realized what position he’d put them in—standing so close, his hands pressing Poe’s shoulders back against the stones, Poe slumped down far enough that his head had to tilt up and back to look up at Finn, baring the length of his throat. Poe’s eyes had widened, and in that moment he looked so vulnerable it was almost enough to make Finn forget what he was trying to get out of him. Almost. _

_ “Okay. Spill it. Talk to me. Why’d you say you’re losing your mind?” _

_ And Poe had spilled it. Seeing how shaken he was, how bad things had gotten right under their noses, Finn forgot about anything but comforting him. He’d only ever seen Poe shed a tear or two in the most extreme of circumstances, so to see him outright cry had rattled him. He’d held him, feeling helpless to offer any other comfort. But it was the moment that had come next that stuck in Finn’s mind, that had kept coming back to him in the days since. _

_ It had happened when they were embracing, Poe’s chin resting on his shoulder and his hand at the back of the pilot’s head. Finn had barely heard the muttered words, but they had lit up in his brain like neon.  _

_ “Why do you smell so good?” _

_ They’d both frozen to the spot, Finn’s eyes opening wide. Had he...heard that right? He pulled back to look Poe in the face, and the blank panic he saw there made him laugh out loud. He hadn’t meant to, but it had suddenly struck him as so absurd, the fact that he’d been dancing around his feelings for Poe, afraid to say anything, not wanting to load anything else onto his friend’s already overburdened shoulders, when apparently what had been on Poe’s mind was how he smelled.  _

_ Poe had smiled gamely, shrugging. “What? It’s a good cologne.” _

_ That reaction made Finn laugh all over again. Poe was a terrible liar. It was one of many traits Finn loved about him, that innate honesty. He could bluff an enemy in a pinch, but he’d have made an awful spy. “I think we better get you to bed, buddy.”  _

_ He’d helped Poe into his hut, onto his bed, and out of his boots and jacket. The pilot had lolled back onto his bedroll then, loose-limbed and heavy with alcohol, one arm cocked behind his head as a pillow. His eyes were reddened from crying, but his mood had evidently lifted, his gaze languid as he looked up at Finn.  _

_ Finn was struck in that moment by the picture Poe made, lying there. His shirt was open at his neck, tugged askew to show a flash of his chest and the hollow of his throat, and his pants were slung low on his hips. His hair mussed, his cheekbones highlighted with heat, his eyes dark and glinting in the half-light offered by the lantern—the surge of lust that ran down Finn’s spine and straight to his groin was strong enough to startle him, and also to immediately make him feel guilty. Poe was in no condition for that sort of activity. Finn swallowed as he straightened up, taking a step back from that temptation.  _

_ “You good? You don’t wanna get out of your clothes?” Finn had no idea how he could make it through helping Poe out of his clothes without embarrassing himself at this point, but he steeled himself. _

_ Poe waved the offer off, though. “Seems like too much work, right now. ‘M good.”  _

_ “Okay...well…” Finn hesitated, looking around. He wished BB-8 was there, could keep an eye on Poe. He wasn’t so drunk he was in danger, but now he knew about the nightmares he hated to leave him alone. On the other hand, if he stayed there, with Poe looking at him like..well, like he’d occasionally daydreamed Poe looking at him like, he was going to say something he’d regret in the morning. If he was going to make a move on Poe, he wanted them both to be clear-headed and he wanted a chance to choose his words with care. “You know where I am if you need anything. I mean it. Anything. Goodnight, Poe.” _

That had been the night when he’d decided that waiting wouldn’t work, that he would need to tell Poe about his feelings, and to do it soon, before they were thrust back into the chaos of running the Resistance, or forced apart by his training. It had just been a matter of finding the right time and place. “On the side of a cliff in a thunderstorm, having just narrowly escaped death” hadn’t been what he had in mind, but it had worked.

It had  _ worked. _

Finn was getting light-headed by the time they arrived at Rey’s hut, leaning more on Poe than he would have liked to. But he could also still feel Poe’s lips on his, like they’d seared a mark on him, something anyone would be able to see by looking at him. 

Rey directed him to sit on her bed. This was Luke Skywalker’s former home, and the one hut they’d seen that had an actual bed, some new mending plates shining where Rey had had to reattach one of its legs. Finn sat, Poe helping him ease down onto the thin mattress and then hovering there, hand on his shoulder. Finn shot him a reassuring smile, although tilting his head up like that made him feel woozy, like all the blood in his skull had rushed to one side. 

“Should I send a message to the doctor? I can send a message to the doctor, I mean, it’ll take twelve hours or so to get an answer, but—” Poe shifted his weight anxiously from foot to foot, still shivering with cold, and Rey eyed him with a faint smile before tossing a zippered med kit to him. He released Finn’s shoulder hastily to catch it. 

“There should be some bacta spray in there. Wash your hands, then use some, while I take a look at Finn.” 

Poe glanced down at his own hands, looking startled to find them so battered by his trip down the cliff. “Oh...right. Yeah…” He cast one worried look back at Finn before stepping away, Rey waving him toward a shipping crate being used as a washstand in one corner, holding a water pitcher and bowl. 

While he scrubbed the grit out of his wounds, Rey brought her lantern close to examine Finn’s head, then met his eye. Her eyes darted meaningfully toward Poe’s back, and her eyebrows lifted questioningly. Finn, his heart lifting as he understood the implied question, couldn’t help but grin widely as he nodded. So Rey had already known about his feelings, after all. Of course. Rey met his smile with a huge grin of her own, clenching one fist in silent triumph as she mouthed “Yes!” Then she cleared her throat, taming her smile to speak seriously.

“This is a good opportunity for you, Finn. Believe it or not.” She settled next to him on the bed and gestured for him to face her, then placed a hand on his head, her touch feather-light and not too close to the wound his fall had left. “Force healing is...well, the texts lead me to believe it wasn’t something that happened very often.” Her tone was brisk, and Finn thought she almost sounded embarrassed by the admission that what she could do was unusual, even among the Jedi.

“So there isn’t much instruction to do with it. I don’t know if I could even really tell you how to try, as it’s not something even I’ve done much of. It can be...rather draining, so I avoid it when I possibly can. But out here on the edge of the galaxy…” She shook her head, closing her eyes to begin to steady her concentration. Finn carefully watched her face, even as he sensed Poe coming up behind him, shaking his hands to dry the bacta spray. “I’d prefer not to take any chances with your brain.”

“Good call.” That was Poe. Finn glanced back at him, before remembering he should hold still. Poe gave him a small smile, tight but encouraging, and folded his arms to watch.

“Yes, well...Finn. I just want you to take a moment. Release yourself to the Force. Sink into it.” Rey’s voice dropped to a murmur, and Finn found himself obediently closing his eyes, his back straightening and shoulders rolling back. It was getting easier and easier to do this, to invite the Force to make itself known to him. He liked the idea of dropping into it, as if it was a warm pool just below them and all he had to do was let go. It felt like that sometimes, like salt water the exact same temperature as his body, closing over his head as he drifted down.

He was only mildly aware of Rey’s breathing changing, deepening and slowing. Most of his senses were focused instead on her presence in the Force. He didn’t have much experience to compare it to, but even Poe was dimmer in the Force to him, more a shadow than a full figure. Rey....blazed. What he experienced through the Force wasn’t quite vision, but if it was, Rey would have shone like the pale yellow blades of her lightsaber staff. Especially with her hand on him, her presence was impossible not to ignore. 

“Good.” Her satisfaction with how quickly he was able to access the Force, his awareness touching on hers like little waves lapping at the shore, turned their connection warm and sweet for a moment. The corner of Finn’s mind that wasn’t simply experiencing this, that was sitting back and observing, marveled at how the slightest change in Rey’s emotions didn’t so much echo in his as it happened in concert with them. 

“Now...just try to follow what I do.”

Finn drew in a sharp breath as the searchlight that was Rey’s presence in the Force turned its full beam on him, blinding him—no, not blinding, it wasn’t vision, it was something else, something impossible to explain with the normal range of senses. Something that to try to explain would be like trying to describe a color to someone who had never seen any. But it was as if that beam of something, of awareness, of brightest light and warmest comfort, turned its full attention on him and then delved  _ into  _ him, filling every vein and pore of him. 

Was this what Kylo Ren had felt? Rey had told him about that, about healing their enemy. Finn had thought that sounded like a crazy thing to do, and said so, to which Rey had just shrugged and said “Most likely.” Was this what he’d experienced, though, when she’d healed him? Or to someone steeped in the Dark Side, would the intrusion of this much light burn?

Finn felt something lift in his chest, the sort of feeling he got when he heard beautiful music, or saw parents hold their children close, or—well, or when he’d kissed Poe, and been kissed in return. It was an almost painful hook behind his sternum, a sharp tug that turned to an ache at the bottom of his throat. At the same time there was a sense of loss, of a tide receding somewhere just beyond his reach. In Rey, he realized, as she funneled that energy into him instead. His lips started to move in protest, before she nudged back with a silent reprimand and he was stilled.

Heat bloomed in his head—not painfully, just that sense again of being warmed by an unseen sun as skin and muscle and bone knit together and bruises smoothed away. Even the scrapes on his skin elsewhere began to sting less as new cells were brought to life by the touch of the Force. But there was that pull, that feeling that Rey’s light was dimming. Without thinking about it, Finn reached toward her through the Force, not to stop her but to steady her. He imagined them standing together, his hands meeting hers palm to palm.

He heard the hitch in Rey’s breathing as the wisps of the Force at his clumsy command strengthened, flowing around her, and was gratified when he sensed the draining away of her light slow, then gradually come to a stop. That’s when Rey pulled her hand away and Finn opened his eyes to meet hers, staring quizzically at him.

“Did that...I mean...is he okay?” Poe leaned forward to inspect Finn’s head, reaching to pull it toward him before Finn swatted his hand away and gingerly touched the spot himself. He found nothing but smooth skin and hair there, as if the wound had never happened. There were traces of dried blood, but that was all. He met Rey’s eyes again and smiled, tentative, not sure if what he’d done had been correct.

“You okay?”

“Me? Yes.” She sounded surprised to be asked, blinking a few times before sitting back and settling her hands in her lap. Finn thought she looked a little paler than usual, but otherwise all right. “That...what you did there. That was...interesting.”

“Was it? I just...I dunno, it felt like I wanted to give you a boost, and then I just...did it.” He wasn’t at all sure how to explain what he’d done, but then he got the sense Rey didn’t need him to anyway. She’d been there, with far more understanding of the workings of the Force than he had. 

“We’ll remember that.”

Poe watched the exchange with a look of bewilderment, finally shaking his head. “Anyone wanna tell me what you’re talking about?”

“Just...Jedi stuff.” Finn shot him a smile, before moving to rise. He moved cautiously, but as he stood he realized he didn’t need to. Other than being cold and wet, he felt better than fine. Tired, yes, but no aches and pains remained. “Thanks, Rey.”

“Of course. Look, take the rest of the day, I think that’s quite enough training.” She stayed seated on the bed, scooting back to pull her legs onto it, and Finn felt a pang of guilt as he watched how slowly she moved. Despite his attempt to help, she was still tired, literally drained by what she’d poured into making him whole. 

Poe watched her a moment and then turned to her little stove, pouring water from a storage jug into the pot that sat beside it. While it heated he prepared a mug for tea, filling a strainer with loose leaves from the decorative clay jar Rey had taken off the  _ Falcon _ . Finn, inspired and sorry he hadn’t thought of it sooner, went to the hooks on one wall to get clean, dry clothes for her, laying them on the bed next to her.

She gave him a wan smile, then leaned over to grasp his forearm when he went to straighten up, tugging him closer to murmur to him. “Go. I’m sure you two have plenty to discuss.”

Finn felt his face heat, and was grateful for a skin tone that couldn’t really show a blush. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I guess we do. Didn’t really...have time to discuss much.” 

Rey smiled with a crinkle of her nose and patted his arm where she’d held it, leaning back to dismiss him. “Good luck.”

“Is that, like...allowed for a Jedi master to say?” Face burning, he glanced over at Poe, who was either oblivious or pretending to be. He was warming his hands over the water as it steamed, and Finn realized he must still be freezing. 

“Don’t know. I’m not a Jedi master.” Rey’s answer was cheerful and a normal volume, as she rested with her hands on the bed behind her, propping her up. “I’m just me. And I’m making it up as I go along.”

“That’s reassuring.” Poe did look over then, a quirk to one corner of his lips. 

“Sorry, did  _ you  _ have an instruction manual for leading the Resistance?” she shot back, grinning despite the new hollows around her eyes. “I seem to recall a good deal of improvisation on your part, General.”

“You...have a point.” Poe gave an eloquent shrug, though it turned into a quick, full-body shiver as he turned his attention back to the water, now bubbling on top of the fast induction coil. He poured the mug and then set it pointedly on the bedside table. “Drink that.”

She threw him a mock salute before gesturing toward the door. “Go, out. Get dry. I’ll see you at dinner, which I am  _ not _ making.”

Finn held the door for Poe as they made their goodbyes, lingering a moment to call back to Rey, “Thank you!” She shooed him away with one hand, mouthing “Go!” Grinning at her, he closed the door behind them and then turned to find Poe standing in the now drizzling rain, watching him. Suddenly self-conscious, he stopped, looking at Poe in return.

He had thought, if he had the courage to tell Poe how he felt, and something started as a result, that Poe might look different to him, somehow changed. He’d been a little afraid of that, afraid that suddenly his friend would become someone else to him, someone he didn’t quite recognize. But no, he looked just the same. Dark hair coiling in the wet air; long-lashed, hooded eyes that turned down slightly at the corners; an expressive mouth he’d watched too closely sometimes. More handsome than anyone had any right to be. Just...Poe.

Who stepped forward deliberately, then, rested his hands on Finn’s shoulders, and kissed the corner of his mouth. It was soft, almost chaste, but there was a new intimacy to it that warmed Finn. He turned his head to catch Poe’s lips with his, his own hands coming to rest on the other man’s hips as if it were the most natural thing in the galaxy. It felt totally new. It felt the same as ever. They smiled at each other as they drew back, and Finn knew the goofy, can’t-believe-this look on Poe’s face was mirrored on his own.

“Hey...let’s get dry,” he finally said. Poe nodded, but they stood there a moment longer, smiling foolishly, until Finn saw him shiver as he took a breath. Then he grabbed the pilot’s hand off his shoulder, turning to head toward his own hut with Poe in tow. “Seriously, let’s get inside, you gotta warm up.”

“Yeah, uh...that’d be good.” Poe seemed to remember he was cold in that moment, wrapping the cloak around his shoulders tighter with one hand, but letting Finn keep the other as they set off. 

BB-8 peered out of Poe’s hut, using his lower body sphere to bump the door open. He’d fled there when the lightning storm had started, pursued by a hopping, tumbling flock of porgs. So many of them had gotten in with him by the time he’d managed to use a tool arm to first open and then close the door that Poe’s floor was now covered in damp, disgruntled porgs, waddling all over his belongings and snuggling down into his blankets. The droid would have some explaining to do.

It had been too long since he’d left the cliffside, and there had been no sign of the humans. What was taking them so long? BB-8 chirped softly to himself, rolling forward a few inches, back a few, forward again with indecision. Poe should have been home by now. The rain had softened and the thunder moved off into the distance, but there had been some very close strikes, to judge by his sensors, and humans could be so exasperatingly slow to recognize danger. 

BB-8 missed having droid company. D-O was safe back with R2-D2, the timid little droid having not wanted to risk a strange new planet, but he missed them both. R2-D2 had become a fast friend, the only astromech he’d ever trusted to take his place in Poe’s X-wing for a battle. He even missed C-3PO, and he normally found the golden protocol droid a pain in the power port. He was very attached to Poe, and fond of Rey and Finn both, but they were biologicals. It just wasn’t the same. There would be so many stories to share with the other droids when he got back. 

The astromech’s lenses whirred under their clear black casing, focusing in on a flicker of movement up the hill and then zooming to enhance it. His system registered relief as he spotted Poe and Finn walking away from Rey’s hut, looking unharmed. Then he let out a surprised bleep, zooming in further to focus on their linked hands. That was unusual. He hadn’t seen Poe hold hands with another humanoid in that fashion for quite some time, though it had been a frequent sight in their New Republic days. The pair were also looking directly at each other far more frequently than BB-8 had calculated as average for the two of them, which was already above average for humans in general. And they seemed to be heading toward Finn’s hut. 

With a whirr of rather smug satisfaction, BB-8 finished his calculations and rolled back into the hut, extending a tool arm to drag the door shut after him. 

It took Rey some time to will herself back to her feet. She was still lying back on her bed, thinking about how the blankets would be wet and she would have to change the bedding, when she felt a warm little eddy in the Force. Her gaze stayed on the ceiling of the stone hut, but she smiled. Good for Finn. Good for Poe. The two of them more than deserved some happiness, and it was about time they’d seen what all their friends had been seeing for quite some time now. She thought Suralinda might explode in delight when she got the news.

She wasn’t quite sure what she’d do about it in regards to Finn’s training, but it was early days yet. They had time to figure it out. It was a new galaxy they were building, after all. That couldn’t be done overnight.

Finally, Rey heaved herself up and stood, her movements careful. Her head was light, but not dangerously so. Mostly she was just bone-tired and, she realized as she began to strip the bed to hang the blankets up to dry, a little sad. Moving mechanically through the task of hanging the blankets on the available wall hooks, she considered why.

It wasn’t jealousy, really. She didn’t have any romantic feelings for either of the two men, though a great deal of affection for both, particularly Finn. She didn’t particularly want a lover of her own, as she’d told Finn...could that have been only the day before? No, she’d known a moment of pure connection in her life, and even if it was confusing, even if she wasn’t sure it really counted as romantic, it had made the pursuit of romance seem silly in comparison. Maybe she’d stumble into someone someday and everything would change, but...no. She wasn’t jealous.

What she was, she realized as she began to strip down to her skin, her movements slowed by the cold, was afraid. Fear, manifesting as sadness. A sort of premature mourning for what she feared might happen. She was afraid, she admitted to herself as she left her wet clothes on the ground to wash later and grabbed a towel with which to scrub herself dry, of losing her new family. 

She’d seen it happen before, back on Jakku. Friends had found love and drifted away, consumed only by their new romance. Everyone else ceased to matter to them. Would it be that way with Finn and Poe? Right at the start of this venture, Poe had declared they could be each other’s family. It had been quietly thrilling to speak that aloud, to hear the other two acknowledge it. Ever since arriving with the Resistance, it had felt like the family she had never had. Finn had been a brother to her; Leia a mother; Han, briefly, a father. Poe, an older, bossier, sometimes rather more annoying brother, but a brother nonetheless. To hear that the two left who were closest to her felt the same had meant everything.

The Jedi hurried into fresh, dry clothes, then went to Luke’s wooden chest to drag out clean bedding. So much luxury compared to Jakku, even in this cold little hut on the fringes of charted space. More than one set of bedding, clean clothes whenever she needed them, food when she wanted it. And a family. She couldn’t bear to lose them, even to each other. Rey worried at her lower lip with her teeth as she thought of even the possibility, tossing the blankets onto the bed and then burrowing into them to warm up and rest. 

She knew that the Jedi Order of old would have frowned on this evidence of attachment on her part. They would have considered it a weakness that the Dark Side could exploit, this fear of loss. What would they have prescribed? Likely they would have forced a separation, so that there could be no more fear on her part, and she could simply accept it. But Rey knew that for her, and for probably many Jedi of the past, such a separation would have bred anger and resentment, also paths to the Dark Side. She would have to try something new.

The trouble was, she didn’t yet know what that was. Rey sighed and pulled the blankets over her head, retreating into a warm cave that smelled of the fragrant rock herbs the Caretakers had packed the blankets into the chest with. She’d figure it out. They would figure it out together. 


	11. Chapter XI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "All right, you got him, part of his mind needled at him. Now what? Aren’t you supposed to be smooth?
> 
> Yes, he’d had a reputation for that in some circles, once upon a time. But he was out of practice, and besides, this felt...different. There was far more weight to it, more gravity. An overwhelming awareness that if he messed this one up, he’d regret it for the rest of his life. He’d never felt that way before, not even about some lovers he’d cared for deeply. He felt like he was teetering again on a precipice, and this one frightened him more than the literal one he’d climbed down to less than an hour before."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said I would eventually get to smut! 11 chapters in still counts!
> 
> If you want to skip anything too explicit, stop reading roughly after the line “You know, I think you’re making fun of me.”
> 
> Enjoy ;)

“You’re sure you’re okay?” It had to be the third or fourth time Poe had asked. He’d lost count, but he couldn’t let it go, and he couldn’t really think of anything else to say on their way down the hill. His brain seemed to have been replaced by bantha wool, or the foam off of a pitcher of Tradoshan ale. He still half expected to wake up and find everything had been a dream—although it would be an unusually nice dream, these days. 

“Poe…” Finn’s voice had a laugh in it, though he was kind enough not to laugh aloud. “Yes, for the last time, I’m fine.” He opened the door to his own hut, holding it for Poe and then stepping in after him to light the lantern. “Look, see for yourself. Rey fixed it.” 

He lowered his head, and Poe, feeling foolish, took a closer look to verify that it was, indeed, completely healed. The rain had even washed away the traces of blood left on his skin. The pilot stepped back, nodding, his arms folding over his chest. “Yeah. Yep. Okay, well...good.” 

_All right, you got him,_ part of his mind needled at him. _Now what? Aren’t you supposed to be smooth?_

Yes, he’d had a reputation for that in some circles, once upon a time. But he was out of practice, and besides, this felt...different. There was far more weight to it, more gravity. An overwhelming awareness that if he messed this one up, he’d regret it for the rest of his life. He’d never felt that way before, not even about some lovers he’d cared for deeply. He felt like he was teetering again on a precipice, and this one frightened him more than the literal one he’d climbed down to less than an hour before.

Finn was staring at him again. He straightened up and offered a smile, finding himself for once utterly tongue-tied. It was Finn who broke the silence, echoing his own question from earlier.

“How long?”

Poe hesitated. But if there was one thing he knew, it was that relationships could only bloom in honesty, and lies were the quickest way to wreck them. He was sick of trying to hide anything from Finn. Even for the smallest things, Poe preferred the truth. So he took in a deep breath and told it, while his clothes dripped on Finn’s floor. “Pretty much since I met you.”

Finn’s expression softened at that, a smile halfway between fond and exasperated as he studied Poe. “And you never said anything? Why the hell not?”

“Too busy saving the galaxy.” When Finn’s eyebrows rose at that, his mouth opening to object, Poe grinned. “What? I meant you, too. We were all busy. And…” He dropped his gaze then, studying the floor where puddles were gathering at his feet. He surreptitiously flexed his toes inside his damp boots, trying to wriggle some warmth back into them. “And I was too scared. To change anything. To risk it.” 

He pulled in his arms more tightly around himself as he looked back at Finn, trying not to shiver. This was too important a conversation to skip out on early, but he desperately wanted some dry clothes and the hottest cup of caf he’d ever drunk. Being wet for half the year he could handle, after growing up in the jungles of Yavin IV, but wet _and cold_ was intolerable. He didn’t know how Finn could stand it, but then, he’d been through stormtrooper training. Who knew what kind of elements they’d thrown those kids up against in the First Order?

To his relief, Finn nodded thoughtfully and then stooped down to his little stove. They were equipped to function as small space heaters as well, and he set it to that on full blast before putting some water on to boil. Tea, caf, just a cup of hot water—Poe would take whatever he was given at this point. Finn straightened and looked him over, wavering.

“I should let you go get changed, we can talk later…”

“No, no, I’m...look, we’ve waited long enough, right?” Poe glanced down at the floor, then dropped the sodden cloak there in a heap right in front of the little heating unit. He was already soaked through, so what was a wet cushion? He sat down cross-legged on it, his back to the glorious waves of heat, and then gestured to the floor mat opposite him. “I mean, if you want to change…”

“It can wait.” Finn settled down across from him, looking curiously vulnerable as he peeled off the jacket he’d been wearing, setting it aside. Poe shifted to the side so that some of the heat could pass by him and warm Finn up as well, before he blurted out another reason he’d hesitated to speak the truth. 

“I was afraid I was too old for you. Too...I mean...how old _are_ you? I don’t even remember you having a birthday since you’ve been with the Resistance.”

Finn laughed as he scooted a little closer to the heat. A little closer to Poe, their hands and knees almost touching. It was the kind of closeness they would have thought nothing of as friends, that now made Poe’s heart lift. “I’m...I guess 25? No...26. I don’t really know. We didn’t have birthdays. 26, I’m pretty sure.”

Poe winced. “Yeah, that figures. Sorry to bring it up.” Of course those monsters hadn’t told them their birthdays, let alone given them any sort of celebration. They hadn’t given them _names._ Just numbers and letters. 

“It’s okay. Can’t miss what you don’t even know about, right? I didn’t really know about birthdays until I saw people in the Resistance having parties, you know? We had a batch day, when everyone in the batch was supposed to turn another year older.” Finn reached out past Poe, extending his fingers toward the heater to warm them. The water was boiling, but neither seemed ready to get up and make drinks. Poe watched the muscles in Finn’s shoulder shift under the clinging, damp shirt. “Wasn’t much of a party. Just a ceremony, then you moved up to the next level in training.”

“We should pick you out a birthday. You gotta have a birthday!” Poe protested when Finn, grinning ruefully, shook his head. He turned to watch as Finn got up to a crouch, reaching for a couple of mugs arranged on a crate he’d been using as a table near the stove, as well as a canister of instant caf crystals. “You get presents and cake, what’s not to like?”

“I dunno…” Finn poured the water after spooning the crystals into the cups, stirring and then handing Poe a steaming mug as he settled back to sitting. “I mean...sure, I’ve thought about it.”

“You could pick any day you want. Like...same day as the Battle of Exegol? The day we blew up Starkiller Base?” Poe watched as Finn started to look a little more interested, blowing over the top of his cup of caf to cool it. Then one corner of his mouth lifted in a reluctant smile.

“Well...I kinda thought...maybe the day you gave me a name. When we escaped.” Finn looked up then, meeting Poe’s eyes. There was something tentative there, like he was afraid Poe would reject this idea he’d offered up.

As if he could. Poe’s breath caught in his throat, his mouth opening before he could quite speak. Clearing his throat, he nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I...think that’s a great idea.”

Finn smiled fully then, his gaze dropping a moment before flicking back to Poe’s face. “It’s kinda like the day I was born, anyway. As me. Not...what they made me.”

“That better not make me your dad.” Poe grimaced, and Finn laughed, shoving one hand against his shoulder. 

“That is... _so_ not the way I feel about you, man.” 

Poe, laughing too, grabbed at his hand when Finn pushed him again, catching his wrist and holding it a moment as their laughter tamed down to self-conscious smiles. Finn didn’t pull away, his arm relaxing in Poe’s grasp. Finally Poe released him, his heart beating a little faster at his own daring.

“How, uh...how _do_ you feel about me, then?” It was the question Poe had been wanting to ask for a very long time, now. There was a flutter in the pit of his stomach, which he tried to suppress. It wasn’t as if Finn was going to change his mind now, he reminded himself. They’d already kissed. Several times. His memory was _very_ clear on that point. It was just that he wanted to hear Finn say it, wanted it finally quantified and put into words.

Poe had very rarely seen Finn look at all shy, but he looked it now, smiling faintly as he looked down at the floor. He extended one finger, prodding at a little puddle of water, then dragging it lazily along the flagstones of the floor, leaving a trail that immediately began to evaporate in the waves of heat that were turning the hut from chilly to tolerable. “Just going straight to the point, huh?”

“Yeah, that’s kinda my thing.” Poe shrugged, the tension in his gut intensifying, even as his tone was light and flippant. “Professional diplomat, here.” 

Finn cracked a real smile at that, and his gaze lifted back to Poe’s face. Poe wondered if his breath would ever stop hitching just a little when Finn looked at him like that, like he was the only thing worth paying attention to in that moment. 

“Well. I already know I love you, and now I just...want to figure out if I’m, you know, _in love_ with you. Does that...make sense?”

Poe’s heart, which had started to pound with Finn’s first declaration, sank a little at the second. But only a little. This, he could work with. He was still in it with a chance, and that could be enough for now. He nodded first slowly, then more vigorously. “Yeah. Yeah, that makes sense.”

“Also, I definitely wanna...you know, do stuff with you.” Finn grinned then, wide enough to make his eyes almost disappear behind his smiling cheeks. Poe laughed aloud, though heat instantly washed over his face, from his throat to his hairline. He took a moment to turn away, setting his caf mug down next to the heater to stay warm.

“‘Do stuff?’ You sure you’re 26, buddy? I think the last time I called it ‘doing stuff,’ I was about ten years younger than that.” Poe laughed again, almost a giggle as Finn’s eyes narrowed and he shoved Poe’s shoulder again. Poe fell back, twisting a little to avoid the heater, and catching himself on his hands behind his back. Still laughing, he tossed his head back into the lean and stretched for a moment, cold muscles beginning to ache after his hasty climb down the cliff earlier. His hands didn’t hurt much anymore, at least, the bacta having already started to knit the skin back together and sealed off the broken capillaries. 

He straightened, blinking in surprise, when he felt Finn’s hand on his knee, his legs still crossed and his hands braced on the ground behind him. Finn had risen up onto his own knees, setting his mug aside and then leaning forward, one hand on the ground and the other there, on his leg. Poe’s breathing deepened and slowed. He’d never seen a look quite like that on Finn’s face before. He was intent, but smiling. Nearly predatory in his smooth movements, but not threatening anything other than an excellent time, should Poe be interested.

Which he was, despite the cold that had settled into every muscle; the weariness that felt like someone had turned up an artificial gravity field, as he’d once seen used to contain dangerous prisoners. Very much interested, if a little nervous under the surface. He let his head fall back again, watching Finn through his eyelashes while the younger man’s hand slid further up his leg a few inches, then leaned against it. His other hand trailed along the ground beside them for balance as he leaned forward until his face was close to Poe’s exposed neck.

The weight of cold and fatigue made Poe feel curiously languid, time seeming to slow as Finn leaned close enough that his warm breath stirred along his throat. They paused like that for a moment, Finn’s hand pressing firmly just above his knee and their gazes locked together. Then Finn’s head dipped, and Poe felt his teeth just graze the skin of his neck. His breath hitched with a small gasp, his hands flexing against the ground as his eyes shut. A rush of heat flooded to his groin with an intensity and speed that startled him.

Just as abruptly as Finn’s advance had started, it stopped. His mouth withdrew, and it took quite a bit of control for Poe not to whimper aloud. Stars, was this all it took to drive him crazy, now? It had been a while, but this was ridiculous. His eyes fluttered open, and it took a moment before he could focus on Finn again. _Settle down, flyboy, you’re about to start panting. Not very dignified._

“What about you?” Finn looked like he knew exactly what he’d just done to Poe, his smile a touch on the smug side as he withdrew just far enough to look directly into Poe’s eyes. _Oh no._ He was not making control any easier, not with that look. 

“What?” Even to his own ears, Poe sounded a little breathless, stammering as his brain tried to catch up enough to answer coherently. “What about me?”

“How do _you_ feel about _me?”_ Finn emphasized the question by raising his hand from the floor to prod against Poe’s chest, just under his clavicle and just above the ring hanging from the chain around his neck. 

“I…” Poe swallowed then, throat bobbing as he considered how to answer. “I definitely wanna do stuff with you too.” He passed off the non-answer with a cocky grin, but he was sure Finn could see his pulse at his neck at this point, and a flush to his face that had nothing to do with the heater next to them.

Finn did grin briefly at that, but it faded to a softer smile as he lifted his hand to touch his thumb and forefinger just under Poe’s chin, gently catching it and holding him still. “C’mon. Really.” Despite the smile his gaze was serious, and Poe could have sworn his heart actually lurched in his chest.

“I...want to find out too,” he finally answered, when he could speak again. “If it’s...if I’m in love with you.” He knew he’d sworn mere minutes earlier not to lie even a little, but his resolve wavered then. It was no guessing game for him, no matter of waiting and seeing. Poe knew perfectly well he was already head over heels. “I want to try being...together. For real.”

“Okay.” That was all, said with simple finality. They smiled at each other a moment before Finn’s grip tightened on Poe’s chin, his thumb digging into the softer spot under it, and he found himself being pulled forward, slowly and deliberately. His breath wavered and his cock stirred in the still-damp pants and boxer briefs that now felt distractingly, uncomfortably tight. His hands came off the ground behind him and his eyes snapped shut as Finn tugged him into an unhurried, thorough kiss. 

How could something as simple as a kiss feel so unbearably _good?_ He had plenty of experience with kissing—an understatement, really—and he’d never had a kiss feel quite like Finn’s did. He’d never had a kiss that seemed to melt his brain into slush, while simultaneously setting the rest of him on fire. When Finn finally pulled back, Poe leaned forward precariously to follow him, not ready to stop. Without so much as a thought beyond _more,_ and without ever breaking away from the kiss, he rose to his hands and knees, then rested one hand on Finn’s shoulder for balance as he continued. Finn finally chuckled against his mouth and Poe’s eyes opened, the room feeling unsteady around him. He drew back, but only by a few inches, his breathing quick and sharp.

“Where the hell did you learn to kiss like that?” Poe finally asked, hoarsely, when he felt like he had himself moderately under control. Sure, he had somehow already wound up on all fours, and was more than half hard, but he could now form a sentence, which was more than he could have said for himself a moment earlier. “I mean...have you even…” he groped with how to finish that thought in any way that wasn’t too prying or insensitive. 

Finn laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he knelt there, watching Poe trying to collect himself. “Poe, I grew up in a barracks with a whole bunch of other young, fit people, and as long as we all followed the rules and didn’t say anything dangerous, they didn’t care what we did with each other outside of training. What do _you_ think?”

“Oh.” Poe felt foolish then. “Right, yeah.” _Of course._ He’d been through boot camp himself, before flight school, and both had definitely been a time of...well, of him figuring out he was attractive enough to have as much fun with others as he could handle, which turned out to be quite a lot, with very little effort on his part. He should have figured someone who looked like Finn would have had some kind of experience, after growing up in that sort of environment. Well...that made this less potentially complicated, anyway. 

And Finn was still watching him, still looking amused. Right, he was on his hands and knees. Which was starting to hurt, given the state of his knees, the bacta having closed the scrapes but not able to help the bruises much. It probably also looked pathetically needy. He sat back on his heels, hoping belatedly that the situation below his belt wasn’t too obvious. “So…”

“You really have been holding out on me this whole time, haven’t you?” 

Finn’s teasing was gentle, but still embarrassing. Poe bit his lower lip with a rueful smile, head dipping in acknowledgement. “That obvious this is blowing my mind, huh? Sorry.”

“No, no. I like seeing you acting all awkward, for once. It’s cute.” Finn was grinning by then, openly enjoying this. “Makes me want to see what else makes you stop having a smart mouth.”

“Nothing can stop me from having a smart mouth. Well...not for long, anyway.” Poe waved a finger in warning at Finn and narrowed his eyes, though he couldn’t stop smiling. He wondered if this would ever start feeling real.

“That sounds like a challenge.” Finn’s eyebrows raised, his grin lopsided as he leaned the short distance forward to rest his hands on Poe’s shoulders. His head tilted to one side as if he was considering his next move, and Poe found himself once again speechless. 

He swallowed, sure that Finn could see him do it. “I feel like either way, I’m gonna be the winner of that particularrmmph—” He was cut off in the best possible way as Finn grasped the shoulders of his wet shirt, hands bunching in the fabric, and tugged him in for another kiss, this one rather more demanding than the ones that had come before. Before he had even fully registered what was happening, a groan escaped Poe, muffled by Finn’s mouth on his. Finn paused for an instant before continuing, then breaking off only to trail his lips down to the corner of Poe’s jaw, then the side of his neck. Poe’s neck arched against his lips, his breath shuddering as his hands came to rest against Finn’s thighs, just groping for something to balance against and stay upright with what felt like every nerve in his body firing wildly.

Finn was chuckling again, that bastard, his breath puffing hot against the spot where Poe’s shoulder met his neck. Why was he stopping? “You know...I was afraid to change things, but this is definitely a good change. This is a change I can get behind.”

“Uh-huh…” That was about all Poe could manage for a witty rejoinder. Either Finn needed to make him leave now, or he needed to keep going _immediately_ and get him out of these clothes, before he ripped right out of these pants. It felt imminently possible, and...he slid one hand up Finn’s thigh, just to check his hunch, and _oh, yes_ , Finn must be enjoying this almost as much as he was, that much was clear. 

Then even that much thought was abruptly made impossible, as Finn nipped at the muscle right there between shoulder and neck, the little shock of pain obliterating whatever train of thought he’d been able to muster. This time he moaned out loud, and Finn paused with his lips pressed to the stinging spot for an instant, as if processing that feedback. Then he bit again, harder this time, and Poe’s toes curled inside his boots as his vision went briefly dark. His head tilted, his cheek pressing against the soft fuzz of Finn’s hair, buzzed short again these days after a few months spent in short twists. Not military short as it had been when they’d met, more relaxed than that, so it was a softer cushion than Poe had expected. The texture was delicious. Everything was delicious, so good, so just right.

It suddenly seemed so easy it made him nervous. So much so that when Finn finally released him, his face just nuzzling down against Poe’s shoulder for a moment, he gasped out one word. “Wait.”

Finn instantly went still, then lifted his head, his fingers still gripping the fabric of Poe’s shirt so that it pulled tight against the back of his neck. Even just the pressure and roughness of the material felt so good it distracted him. “Wait?” 

“I mean...shouldn’t we take things...a little slower?” He was torn even as he said it, part of him terrified of going too fast and ruining this miraculous shot he’d just been handed, the other part calling him insane and telling him to _go go go, run with it._

“Slower than the past, what, _three_ _years?”_ Finn sounded a little incredulous, and Poe had to admit he had a point. He didn’t try to push it at all, though, slowly releasing Poe’s shirt. That did help with the thinking, a little. Poe licked his lips and tried again.

“Look, I just don’t want to...risk this. I’m not just here to get laid, you know?” There was a beat before he added, “Not that I’m not _incredibly_ interested in getting laid.”

“Yeah, I was gonna say.” Finn looked pointedly downward at the indisputable evidence of Poe’s interest, then back up with a grin. Poe’s ears burned, but he tried not to be sidetracked. 

“I want this to be real. To last.” He stared into Finn’s eyes as he deliberately calmed his breathing, holding his gaze steady.

“I know.” That was gentle, Finn reaching out to touch the back of his fingers to Poe’s face. Poe’s breath caught, his eyes half-closing as his head tilted against Finn’s hand. So much for his protestations of wanting to slow down. _Don’t be so needy,_ he chided himself as Finn continued. “I do too. If you think we should stop for now, we can stop. No problem. I’m never gonna push you.”

Poe was flooded with relief, though he still felt maybe the most turned on he’d ever been in his entire life. It was an odd dichotomy of feelings—gratitude at being offered an out, a confirmation of complete safety, and intense longing to keep going. He laid his own hand on top of Finn’s on his cheek, clasping fingers with him and then bringing Finn’s knuckles to his mouth to kiss them lightly. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” Finn worked at his lower lip with his teeth a moment, then squeezed Poe’s fingers before releasing him. “Do you wanna...go get dressed? Dry off a minute? Then we can...start getting dinner ready?”

“Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good.” He didn’t move for a long moment, though, glancing down at the hand that had been intertwined with Finn’s, flexing his fingers. The cuts and scrapes he’d sprayed with bacta were all closed now, the new skin pink and still fragile in places. That was something like how his whole body felt now, vulnerable and sensitive to even the lightest touch. 

“...Poe?”

“Right.” Poe took a deep breath through his nose and rocked back into a crouch, then eased up onto his feet to stand. He _was_ still cold where the heater hadn’t warmed him, and soaked, and uncomfortable, after all. He should take care of that. He’d have to mend the rip in his pants over one knee, too, which he wasn’t looking forward to, as he couldn’t sew worth a damn. “Yeah. Going. We’ll...take it slow. One step at a time.”

Finn stood too, nodding bravely. “Of course. Sure. We need to get this right.”

“Right.” Poe turned toward the door, his hand on the roughly cast iron latch. “Okay.” He lifted the latch, and then hesitated. 

_What are you, nuts? You’ve been waiting for this for literal_ years, _asshole. Turn around!_

_But I want to make the right decisions, not think with my dick._

_But…_

He turned back abruptly, the latch dropping back into place with a clank. “On second thought…”

“Yeah, yup, that’s okay, too.” Finn was already nodding his agreement, grasping the hem of his damp, clinging shirt and tugging it off over his head in one movement. Poe, distracted by the smooth shifting of defined muscles under gleaming brown skin, watched him in paralyzed stillness as he tossed the shirt down on the ground.

Then he was on Poe, sure hands tugging out his shirt where it had been tucked into his waistband. He paused just long enough to give Poe a sweet, soft kiss, then to look into his eyes questioningly. When Poe nodded, suddenly too out of breath to say anything, he continued, pulling the shirt upward. 

Poe shivered once as the air hit his damp, bare skin, but held his arms up obediently to let Finn strip the shirt off over his head. It joined Finn’s on the floor, and then Finn’s hands were on him, making him draw in a sharp breath as they rested on his waist, just above his hips. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, okay? Just...say the word if you want me to stop,” Finn murmured near his ear, his breath stirring a drying curl of hair that tickled along the side of his face.

“Got it,” Poe managed, before he lifted his hands to come to rest on Finn’s bare shoulders for the first time. His skin was perfectly smooth, aside from the smaller lightsaber scar that slashed across one pectoral, not as wide and dramatic as the one across his back. Poe traced a finger along it, feeling something akin to being drunk, then slid his hands lower, along Finn’s ribs and onto the defined ridges of muscle of his abdomen. _Very_ defined. Poe felt a little self-conscious, in fact, with his slimmer build and less dramatic musculature. Even at his fittest, back in flight school, he’d never looked like this. Well, here was his workout motivation.

He realized Finn had stopped to watch him, and he glanced up to meet his eyes. They both smiled then, an instant of shared shyness before Finn’s hands were moving again, sliding slowly up Poe’s sides and then onto his chest, as if taking inventory of his body. Poe closed his eyes, swallowing, his own hands settling onto Finn’s hips to steady himself. He felt aware of every mark and imperfection on his body, scars from crashes and battles and especially those the First Order had left on him the first time he’d been in their brutal custody. Finn’s fingers paused on a few—the small circular ones that dotted his chest and stomach in pairs, faded but still visible. The neat rows of thin, parallel lines scored over his ribs, still lightly raised even after a few years’ time. But he didn’t say anything, and Poe was grateful for it, watching him through slitted eyes as he explored. Answering questions about those scars right now would ruin the mood. 

His eyes squeezed shut again as Finn’s lips landed at the hollow of his throat, his chin lifting to let him. Finn’s broad hands slid around to the small of his back, his thumbs idly rubbing the tense muscles there until they eased a little. Then he dipped lower, fingers edging under Poe’s waistband and pulling to tug him closer, closing the gap between them. 

They stood like that for a quiet moment, each man’s chin resting on the other’s shoulder, cheek to cheek and hip to hip. Poe loved that, loved that they were nearly the same height and fitted together so neatly. Being on the short side for a human male had never really bothered him—it was an advantage for a fighter pilot, actually, as long as you could reach the controls, letting you sit more comfortably in a tiny cockpit for hours at a time. Most men he’d been with had been taller than him, some much taller, and some of them had gotten a little too much of a kick out of it, which could get tiresome. Being with Finn felt equal, felt secure. 

Poe’s eyes slowly opened, taking in this little stone hut, its humble walls and humbler furnishings, such as they were. Even that felt magical now, the lantern bathing it all in a warm glow that pushed away the purple-gray gloom of the day outside the tiny window. Rain was still beating down on the roof, but being in here, in this ancient structure, in Finn’s arms, felt so safe. The safest he’d felt in years. 

Feeling warm at last, he turned his head, nuzzling against Finn’s neck. The other man tugged away with a chuckle, craning his neck to look over at Poe. “Damn, when did you last shave? That tickles.”

Feeling contrary, Poe rubbed his stubbly chin against the crook of Finn’s shoulder with a faint rasp, provoking a little yelp of protest. “I dunno, two, three days ago? It grows fast.”

“Fast? You damn near have a beard already!” 

“Yeah, well, some of us are blessed like that. And others...well, others would have to stay inside where people couldn’t see them for a couple of months if they tried to grow a beard.” He lifted his head with a lazy little smile, tapping Finn on the chin with one finger. Said chin was as smooth as it had been that morning, if Poe was any judge. 

“You know, I think you’re making fun of me.” Poe, grinning, shook his head in denial, then broke into helpless laughter as Finn backed him toward the wall beside the door, his arms going up to wrap loosely around Finn’s neck. “You making fun of me, Dameron?”

“What? When have I ever done that? Never. Totally baseless accusation.” Poe snickered, undermining his own words, then caught his breath as his back bumped into the wall. Finn didn’t stop his press forward, gentle but insistent as he pushed up against Poe, and the pilot found himself trapped between his body and the wall. He could feel his own heartbeat against his sternum as Finn’s hands moved, fingers idly sliding further under his waistband, grasping his hips. Finn’s thumbs came to rest on the ridge between hip and pelvis, pushing in just enough to send a shock of pleasure through Poe. His hips rocked up involuntarily, a little buck into Finn’s hands as his bare shoulders were pushed inexorably against the rough stone wall. He let out a little hiss of breath and Finn paused, eyebrows raising.

“You okay?”

“Oh, I am...way more than okay.” Poe was about ten seconds away from starting to pant like an akk dog, was what he was. He nudged his hips forward more deliberately this time, and Finn smiled at him as he pressed his thumbs in firmly again. Poe bit his lip and almost whimpered as his cock throbbed insistently. It had subsided some when they had paused, but it was certainly fully alert now. 

After another brief squeeze Finn withdrew his hands and Poe did let out a little noise of protest then, starting to push away from the wall. Finn stopped him with a hand on his chest, pressing him firmly back into place against the stones with a hint of a mischievous smile. Poe’s stomach tightened with a flutter of pleasure as he let himself be pinned without a fight, looking directly into Finn’s eyes as he relaxed against the wall. 

Finn gave him an approving smile and _oh, hell,_ that felt good, he felt like he could bask in that for a while. But Finn had other ideas. He removed his hand, only to press his forearm against Poe’s chest instead. He leaned in, genuinely pinning Poe in place with his weight as his other hand trailed down his stomach. Poe sucked in a breath reflexively, heart hammering against the weight of Finn’s arm as his other hand slid lower, pausing at his belt to begin to unbuckle it. He took his sweet time, movements deliberate as he freed the buckle, then slid the belt out of its loops and discarded it. Poe’s jaw clenched from the effort of waiting, of standing still, as those fingers found the button of his pants next.

“Getting impatient? I thought you wanted to take it slow.” Finn paused right there, his hand on the still closed button, and glanced up from his work to give Poe a twinkling smile. 

“I take it back, I take it back,” Poe groaned, dropping his head back in frustration to thunk softly into the wall behind him. 

Finn chuckled low, but he must have been satisfied with the answer, because he rubbed the flat of his hand lightly over the bulge of Poe’s groin before continuing, fingers hooking the button open. Poe’s hips twitched forward again, his knees wobbling under him. That was embarrassing, but fully involuntary, his body starved for attention after waiting for so long. Finn grinned and darted a look up to Poe’s face before he unzipped his fly and tugged his pants down below his hips with a hard yank. “Let’s get you out of the rest of those wet clothes.” 

Holy stars, he hadn’t prepared himself for the possibility that Finn would be quite this assertive and playful and knowledgeable. Had _hoped,_ maybe fantasized when he’d let himself, but this forceful striptease was beyond what he’d let himself imagine could actually _happen._ And if he wasn’t careful, he was going to finish before he even got his boots off. He held his breath and counted to ten in his head to distract himself from the feeling as Finn peeled down his boxer briefs then, freeing him with a shock of cool air on damp skin that made him gasp aloud as his cock emerged, fully erect.

Finn paused long enough to graze his mouth with a hard little kiss, then eased his weight off of Poe to let him peel himself away from the wall, knees unsteady. Finn took one step back to watch as Poe heeled out of his boots, then bent to finish undressing. He felt an immediate rush of relief as soon as he was free of all of the rain-drenched clothes, the air feeling instantly warmer as it dried his skin. Straightening again, he looked over at Finn, suddenly acutely aware of being naked while Finn was still mostly dressed. And Finn, damn him, seemed to be enjoying that fact, openly watching him with his arms folded over his chest and a faint smile on his face.

“You happy now?” Poe asked, deciding on a flippant tone as he reached up to lock his hands together behind his own head. He stretched his chest deliberately as he watched Finn’s reaction. Finn pulled a thoughtful face as if mulling the question over, then shrugged. 

“I could be happier.”

Poe’s eyes narrowed, one corner of his mouth lifting. Challenge accepted. With an imperious flick of his hand he backed Finn up until he was behind the little woven rug. That was where he lowered himself to his knees, glancing up at Finn to gauge his reaction and smirking when he saw his eyes had gone wide, his breathing unsteady. _Tables successfully turned._ Poe had always loved that moment of subversive power, of knowing he had a man’s complete and undivided attention even while he was on his knees. 

He made short work of Finn’s belt buckle and fly, peeling his pants down his hips and then helping him with his boots, Finn’s hand resting on his shoulder for balance as he lifted one foot at a time. First the boots, then the pants. Then he took a deep breath and tugged down Finn’s briefs, not even looking up until he’d repeated the operation of helping him step out of them.

When he did look up, he breathed out in silent relief. That was...very nice. Not that he wouldn’t have still been besotted with Finn if it wasn’t, but this was a significant bonus. He glanced up at Finn in silent query and got a nod in return, Finn’s lips slightly parted and his pupils wide. That was satisfying to see. Poe reached out to grasp him then, savoring that moment before he gave a few light strokes to bring him fully erect, all that was needed. Then he rose up on his knees, wrapping his hand around the base of Finn’s cock before taking him in his mouth.

Poe’s eyes fluttered closed as, above him, Finn softly swore. If there was one thing Poe would say he prided himself on, in his sexual repertoire, it was this. He might be a little rusty, but he knew he could deliver. The fact that it was Finn, well, that just meant he’d be sure to put all his skills to work. He kept it light at first, more tongue than anything, as he worked his hand up and down the shaft with lazy strokes. After a little while he opened his eyes to see Finn’s hands clenching and relaxing at his sides, looking for something to hold onto, and he paused long enough to glance up. “You can put your hands on my head, you know.”

Finn nodded, his expression distant with concentration as he did just that, fingers burying into Poe’s hair. It was mostly dry now and curling tightly after the accidental drenching, and when Poe leaned forward again to resume his activity, Finn’s hands tightened in it convulsively. The sharp tug felt so good Poe couldn’t help but groan deep in his throat and open his mouth a little wider, Finn’s hips nudging forward to press in.

“You like that, huh? Okay. I’m gonna remember that.” Poe’s hair was just long enough for Finn to wrap it once around his hand and pull, long and firm. Poe took a sharp breath in through his nose, hands bracing against Finn’s thighs as he rolled his eyes up to peer at him. His face burned at how easily Finn had sussed him out, but he leaned in, keeping his gaze up on Finn’s face. It contorted in pleasure when he took Finn down his throat, only a few inches at first, but going a little deeper with each bob of his head. 

After a little while of this pleasant rhythm, Finn tightened his grasp on Poe’s hair, forcing his head up and back with one hand, hard enough to make his eyes water and yanking another groan out of him. He took the pause to breathe hard and fast while he could, while with his other hand, Finn adjusted his angle. Then he tugged Poe’s head forward again, Poe taking him back into his mouth and tasting salt at the back of his tongue. Both hands twined in his hair again, holding his head firmly in place as Finn began to thrust.

Poe felt like he might explode, his own cock almost painfully hard as Finn set up a slow, steady rhythm in his mouth. Shallow at first, but then pushing deeper, a little deeper with every stroke. He was considerate enough to leave plenty of time to breathe, and Poe concentrated on relaxing his jaw and keeping his tongue moving when it could. He ran his hands up and down Finn’s thighs in encouragement—they were, to be frank, magnificent thighs; the man clearly did not skip leg day—and then slid around to his equally impressive ass as Finn’s pace sped up, grabbing onto it for the very first time and feeling giddy about it. 

No one could last too long at this rate, Poe knew from experience, so it wasn’t surprising when Finn’s one hand let go of his hair to tap him urgently on the head. He peered up and saw Finn sweating, the muscles of his arms standing out with tension. They locked eyes, and then Poe made the decision for both of them, taking a deep breath before he leaned in and took Finn down to the root. 

The reaction was nearly instant, Finn’s hips giving a few stuttering jerks before his eyes slammed closed. His fingers tightened again in Poe’s hair as he stiffened and came, crying out sharply and wordlessly. Poe closed his own eyes then, holding still a long moment as it shot down his throat, hot and fast. 

When Finn finally released him he sat back on his heels to gasp for breath, lips wet and feeling swollen. He watched Finn with satisfaction as the other man came back to his senses from wherever it was he’d just gone, his cock softening as his eyes slowly blinked open. As soon as he was sure Finn had focused on him, he deliberately wiped his mouth with one hand, then smirked. 

When he could speak again, Finn gave a winded little laugh, then eased down to sit on the edge of the unrolled mattress on the floor. “That...I was not expecting. Who knew Poe Dameron, uh, gives great head?”

“Eh, a bunch of guys I went to school with, some other pilots and techs in the New Republic navy, a handful of random people I met at bars and clubs around the galaxy…practice makes perfect, right?” Poe gave a cheerful shrug and sat down next to him, knees protesting as he drew them up, feet flat on the floor. Spending that long on his knees had maybe been a mistake, since they were already hurting, but he regretted nothing. Finn, though, frowned when he saw the bruises properly.

“That looks like it hurts.”

“Well. As you might have gathered, sometimes I like a little of that.” He grinned over at Finn, then scooted back on the bed, relaxing back on the soft blankets and feeling decadent. Also pleased with himself, seeing Finn looking so punch-drunk. Also nearly unbearably hard, at this point. 

Finn seemed to notice that in the same moment, pushing himself back onto the bed to join him. Poe started to sit up to meet him and Finn shook his head, nudging him back down with a palm on his shoulder. He subsided happily as Finn lay next to him, propped up on his elbow, and reached for him. 

When Finn’s hand finally fully wrapped around his cock it took real concentration not to immediately rut against it. His breath hitched sharply and he held still, eyes slipping closed after a moment. Finn simply held him for a few seconds longer, then slid his hand up to the tip to gather some of the pre that had already started to bead there. His grasp now slick, Finn began to work him over with slow, deliberate strokes. 

It felt...heavenly. His head lolled to the side where he lay, his eyes opening to watch Finn, spotting that little line between his eyebrows that he always got when he was concentrating on something. Finn saw him watching and smiled, small and genuine, before increasing his pace and wringing a soft moan out of him. His eyes briefly closed again but he fought them open, wanting to keep watching Finn. 

When Finn finally paused and rolled up on his elbow in preparation to move, his reciprocal intention clear, Poe reached out to grab his arm, shaking his head. “Stay up here.”

“You sure?” Finn’s voice was husky, his eyes meeting Poe’s in the half light. It was evening now, getting to be dark outside, and the lantern lit him softly from behind his shoulder. 

“Yeah. I wanna see your face.” And kiss it, he decided, rising up on his own side enough to kiss the corner of his jaw. Finn took the hint and leaned over him, hand working faster as he kissed Poe’s lips, his jawline, the side of his neck. When he bit lightly at his collarbone, Poe’s hips jerked, rising helplessly off the bed to meet the rhythm of his hand. 

Of course it didn’t take long for Poe either. They weren’t trying for a marathon, they were both too excited, almost feverish, to allow for that. This was a rush for pleasure too-long denied. When Poe came, thrusting against Finn’s hand, it was with a loud cry that startled even him. Finn reached up to shield it so that it mostly spattered onto Finn’s hand and his own stomach. 

They both lay still in the aftermath, Poe panting to catch his breath as feeling and control slowly returned to his feet, his hands. That had been maybe the purest, sweetest moment of bliss in his life to date. He looked over at Finn and saw that feeling echoed in his face—delight, tinged with disbelief. Had it been this easy all along? What had they been waiting for? 

For this, Poe decided. For this time and place, where finally nothing was trying to kill them and neither of them had too many responsibilities weighing them down. Finn sat up and leaned, reaching for a towel from the small stack folded neatly on the ground. He wiped Poe down considerately, and his own hand. Afterward, they both, by silent agreement, burrowed under the blankets. Poe turned onto his side to regard Finn. They smiled slowly at each other, both sated and spent. 

“Let’s do that again sometime,” Finn finally offered. Poe, caught by surprise, laughed aloud, then leaned in to kiss him, full and languid. Finn returned it, then nudged his shoulder so that he rolled over and let Finn nestle in against his back, arm slung over him with casual possessiveness and soft cock resting against the curve of his ass. This, he could learn to live with. 

“It’s a deal.” He was so relaxed now, so unconcerned with anything else, so safe, it was almost like feeling drugged. A few minutes later, with no worries or fear, he drifted off to a heavy, dreamless sleep. Simple as that.


	12. Chapter XII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finn woke slowly, coming to his senses one breath at a time. Breathe in, notice the light beyond his eyelids. Breathe out. Breathe in, become aware of a warm, solid body tucked securely against his. Breathe out. Breathe in, and remember the night before, and realize who was lying next to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time no see! For some reason this chapter took forever to write, likely because quarantine has destroyed at least two of my three brain cells, and they were all gay disasters to begin with. 
> 
> ***MILD SPOILER AHOY***
> 
> More sexy times in this chapter, so if you want to skip that, stop reading at "I owe you for last night." and start again at "Consider me repaid." Does anyone need/use these warnings? I am unaccustomed to the fanfic norms.

“The Rule of Two was our undoing.”

Vicrul, formerly a Knight of Ren, now General of the Sith Eternal, slammed his mailed fist down on the table in front of him. Around it, his six apprentices sat, their unflinching gazes fastened on him. They had learned by painful example not to show fear at any of his theatrical displays, and now Vicrul was satisfied that they were unshakeable. He resumed pacing at the front of the room they’d claimed as their own aboard the sad excuse for a battleship, the  _ Bitter Harvest.  _

“The Rule of Two…” He savored the words, the way they sounded buzzing out of the mechanical respirator of his helmet. He had so much new knowledge to share, so much to teach these young learners entrusted to him by the same Sith cultists who had rescued him from the wreckage of the Sith temple on Exegol, nursed him back to health, and taught him so much. “After the war with the Jedi, our order was reduced to only a single Sith lord, Darth Bane. When he took a new apprentice, Bane declared it the beginning of a new era.”

Vicrul’s tone dripped with scorn even through the distortion of his helmet. “The era of the Rule of Two. Bane declared that only two Sith, a master and his apprentice, should exist at any time. Only this way could he hide from the Jedi long enough to plot their undoing.” He paused in his pacing, shaking his head. “It almost worked.”

It was a story he’d told so many times by now that he had his pauses, his gestures, his shouts, all worked out. But it still gave rise to outrage, more muted now than when he’d first learned the story, but still persistent. There was heat in his chest as he told it again, to apprentices who had heard it over and over again, some long before he’d even known it. 

“Darth Sidious—later Emperor Palpatine—and his apprentice, Darth Vader, very nearly brought the dream of Darth Bane to fruition.” He savored that word, too— _ fruition— _ one that had been new to him when he’d heard the story for the first time. The Sith Eternal had taught him so much in these last months. New words, new stories. New powers. New purpose. “But they, too, failed. Because…”

And here Vicrul whirled, both fists crashing down into the table as he shouted, his voice from the mask as loud as the whine of a vibro blade saw against stone. “The Rule of Two came from a place of FEAR!”

“FEAR!” his apprentices roared back at him in unison, their fists slamming onto the table in turn. 

“And while we can use fear, we cannot let fear use us! We must master fear!” As he shouted, Vicrul closed his eyes, letting a wave of fear roll off of him, seeping over his apprentices like a damp fog. It was something he’d been able to do since late childhood, at first unconsciously and later at his command. His fellow Knights of Ren had helped him further hone it, turning it into a weapon. Now, though, with the arcane knowledge the Sith cultists had brought to him, he could wield it like a blade. Like the Ren—the lightsaber. 

“WE WILL MASTER FEAR!” the apprentices shouted, and he could see the effort it cost them. Their faces had paled as his terror roiled over them, their knuckles white as they braced their fists against the table. He let it go on a little longer before he snapped his gloved fingers, the invisible cloud dissipating immediately, and saw their shoulders lift. Not impervious to fear, not yet, but they were fighting it. Good.

“We must master rage!” He growled the last word, the mask turning it into a guttural crackle. His fist tightened with a creak of leather.

“WE WILL MASTER RAGE!”

“Once, the Sith were many. As many as the Jedi. As the Jedi Order rebuilds itself, so must we, until we match them. Until we end them forever. We must rebuild!” He slammed his hand flat at that, and they mirrored him, a dozen black-gloved hands thudding into the dark table before them. 

“WE WILL REBUILD!”

“We must be many!” His hands rose, palms lifted toward the ceiling. That still caused a twinge of pain, a tightness across his chest where the lightsaber scars given to him by the traitor, Kylo Ren, continued to heal. 

“WE WILL BE MANY!”

“We must be strong!” He slapped his own chest, gloves ringing against his crude metal breastplate. The apprentices followed suit, though the only sound was the thud of hands against their simple black robes. 

“WE WILL BE STRONG!”

Vicrul let the words hang in the air, hot and ringing. Then he leaned forward, bracing his hands on the table as he stared at his apprentices through the eye slits of his impervious metal mask. Each of them had been chosen from the ranks of the Sith Eternal, cultists who had grown up in the subterranean cities of Exegol, devoted to the Dark Side of the Force—what he had once called “the shadow” that came over him, and over all of the Knights of Ren. These apprentices were barely more than children, children whose sensitivity to the Force had been mostly suppressed by the cultists who had believed in the Rule of Two. No longer. Now their talents were to be cultivated to their fullest extent. 

He considered them one at a time, these young people whose destinies he now held in his hands. Rydejar, whose prowess with weaponry was second only to his own, though he favored dual lightsabers over Vicrul’s own vibro-bladed scythe. Emarol, who could read the intentions of others with uncanny accuracy, such that she was always one step ahead of their enemies. Kasjen, with her ability to cut off others from their connection to the Force—he would have to watch her, as that ability was dangerous even to him, but thus far the white-haired, copper-skinned girl had shown no interest in climbing the ranks of the reborn Sith. Not yet. Jairod, whose talents lay in persuasion, could have had the Vice-Admiral happily eating out of a bowl on the floor if Vicrul willed it. Myahel’s knowledge of Sith lore was deep, deeper than his own, and their memory always thirsty for more. Lastly, Mictris, whose accuracy with ranged weapons rivaled even Vicrul’s lost brother in the Knights, Kuruk’s. 

Vicrul reveled in how they watched him, hanging on his every word. He’d never been a leader before, always overshadowed by someone—by his vicious and uncaring father; by Ren, the leader of the Knights; by Kylo Ren after him. Now, here he was, Vicrul, the lord and General of a new generation of the Sith, and it was him they looked to for guidance. If his father were still alive, he’d force him to watch this while he gutted the man. 

“But first…” he finally said, forcing his thoughts to stillness, “we must find our enemy. The Jedi, Rey. The murderer of our Emperor.”

The apprentices said nothing, but there hung in the air a simmering hiss of their hatred. He could feel it, pulsing off of them. He’d never seen anything like the cultivated hatred of the Sith Eternal. They’d been so protective of their beloved Emperor, even after he’d failed them. Instead of blaming his weakness, they’d blamed the Rule of Two, and the Jedi. Vicrul had his private doubts about that analysis, but their fervent hatred...that, he could work with. 

“I need your help, my apprentices.” Their gazes all sharpened with that, as he held up his hands beseechingly. “Alone, I haven’t been able to find her. Her power hides itself from me. But if we can join our power together…”

“Let me help, Master!” The eager cry came from Emarol, her dark eyes wide with enthusiasm. She was the most devoted of the Sith apprentices, in Vicrul’s estimation, a fervent believer in the Dark Side. Sometimes a little too fervent for his tastes, but it was something he could work with. He reached out a hand to his pale, black-haired apprentice, letting her take it. Speechless with ecstacy, she clung to it, resting her forehead against his knuckles. 

“Yes, Emarol, I’ll especially need your talents.” He withdrew his hand from her grasp with a little difficulty, lip curling up in disgust under the mask, though he was quick to shield that emotion from his empathic apprentice. Emarol fawned too much. He’d have to break her of that, but for now her trust was useful. “I’ll need all of your talents.”

He surveyed the group, arms folding over his armored chest. He could see how they shifted, sitting up straighter, lifting their chins and their chests, trying subtly to look stronger, tougher, more blasé. Pathetic. These soft children were all too sheltered by their lives in the stronghold cities under the rocks and deserts of Exegol, far away from the charted galaxy. They’d never faced hunger, or despair, or even real fear before the war had come to their lonely planet. They’d never known betrayal. Most had never even killed.

He would teach them.

But first, he would use them. “You will work in shifts of two, eight hours a shift. During your time on you will meditate, throwing your consciousness out into the galaxy. Searching. Listening. I will tolerate no distractions. You will work together, linking your consciousness in the Force to enhance each other’s talents. Is that understood?”

“Yes, master.” Their voices came back to him, quick and crisp. He’d trained them to that degree, at least.

“Good. Begin now. Emarol, Mictris. Listen with Emarol’s senses. Mictris, help her aim them far and true.” Both nodded, Emarol eager, Mictris looking sour. The stocky, shaven-headed boy was openly unnerved by Emarol’s pious fervor. “Well?”

Mictris scowling and Emarol looking rapt, the two stood at once, going to the raised dais they used for ceremonies. After silently conferring they sat, cross-legged, their hands linked, and bowed their heads. Vicrul turned his attention back to the others. “Myahel and Jairod, you will be next, then Rydejar and myself.” There was a little shift of surprise among the remaining group, and then all eyes turned to the silent one left. Kasjen looked up at him, steady and blank behind a curtain of white hair.

“Kasjen. There is only one job for you, and you must do it whenever you’re awake.” He stepped toward her then, lifting her chin with one gloved hand. He could never quite get a reading on the girl, which was unnerving. He didn’t know if she thrilled to the attention, like Emarol would, or wanted to take his hand off at the wrist for his impertinence. He could work with either, but he wished he knew which. “Your job is to guard us. Hide us from any eyes that might pry in return. If the Jedi feels us searching, she’ll only disappear again. You understand?”

She nodded once, watching him through her pale lashes. He released her and turned away, dismissing them. “Good. On your way, the rest of you. Save your energy for your tasks. We can no longer trust these Imperials to find our prey for us. They’ve failed us.”

He swept out of the room then without looking back, letting his senses stretch before him through the Force. People were still amorphous sparks of life to him, dim pings on his radar. But every day he grew stronger, using the skills the Sith Eternal and their books and scrolls had taught him to hone. Vicrul was ultimately a realist, too battered down by a lifetime of defeats to hope for much beyond tomorrow. He knew that he, alone, couldn’t hope to become as powerful as someone like Kylo Ren, or Snoke, or this Jedi girl. But with his apprentices at his side, shaped by him through fear and praise into a lean and hungry weapon, someday soon...soon, he could rule the galaxy.

Or better, rule the Sith, and through them move through the galaxy protected by a cloak of fear. No one would ever dare harm him again. 

***

Finn woke slowly, coming to his senses one breath at a time. Breathe in, notice the light beyond his eyelids. Breathe out. Breathe in, become aware of a warm, solid body tucked securely against his. Breathe out. Breathe in, and remember the night before, and realize who was lying next to him. 

His eyelids fluttered open and he stared in the dim morning light at the head next to his. Poe had rolled to his back at some point in the night and now lay with one arm flung over his head, his lips faintly parted and his long lashes casting shadows down his cheeks. He looked the most relaxed Finn had seen him in months, even the dark smudges he’d developed under his eyes a little lighter now. He also wasn’t wearing anything other than a blanket that came up to his waist and the ring he always wore around his neck; something Finn had noticed before, but never asked about. There were a lot of things he’d never asked Poe about, all of which suddenly seemed important and fascinating.

Finn curled more onto his side, sliding an arm under his pillow and propping his head on it as he studied Poe. Early in the night, he’d woken up and at least put on a shirt and loose shorts, when he’d realized he was cold. He’d had some dinner too, out of the ration packs he kept in his hut for just such a solo meal, when the weather was bad. He probably should have felt bad about leaving Rey to her own devices for dinner, but...well, he hadn’t. He’d been too happy for that. Rey would understand.

He’d have been even happier if Poe had woken up and joined him, but he hadn’t budged. Not even when Finn had given him a few nudges, murmuring his name. Poe had stirred just a little, smiling faintly, then subsided again, and eventually Finn had given up and let him sleep. He obviously needed it. Finn had rejoined him once he was done eating, tired after a long and difficult day. The fact that Poe clearly hadn’t moved since was...maybe a little concerning, though.

Finn watched his profile now, and the rise and fall of his chest. His beard already looked a little darker and thicker than it had yesterday—how did he  _ do  _ that?—and his hair was a tousled mess that made him want to run his fingers through it. Or grab it and pull it tight again, a thought that gave him a shot of pleasure when he remembered the noise Poe had made when he’d done that. Even with a full mouth. 

So this was real life. It had really happened, hadn’t it? Something he’d been thinking about, at first casually and even with a start of guilt, and eventually on an average of about once an hour. Their relationship was ever-changed now, a thought that used to fill him with foreboding. Now it felt exciting, like the beginning of a brave new era. Like he’d felt at the end of the war.

He rested his hand on Poe’s chest, movements soft and careful, and felt it rise and sink with every breath in and out. His fingers moved a little, tracing the bump of a scar under them, then shifting to the side to find its mate. The little circular ones came in pairs, and he knew what they were without being told. Electrical burns, from the prods that the First Order had used in interrogations and prisoner control. If he had to guess, General Hux himself had probably left at least some of them. It was the sort of thing the cave lizard, to use Poe’s very apt words, had often liked to do himself.

The lines over his ribs, now, those he knew must have come from the interrogation droid. They were too neat and regular, each set occurring in a diamond-shaped patch and each diagonal line exactly the same length and same width apart, to have been made by a human or alien hand. Probably a vibro blade or a thin cauterizing iron—likely the latter, he thought queasily,as Poe hadn’t been too bloody when he’d broken him out. 

There were other scars he could place. There was one on his temple, very faint now, disappearing into his hairline. That was from the day they’d met, too. A few others he’d picked up in various battles along their way, which Finn had plenty of himself. And of course the livid blaster burn scar on one arm, from when they’d gone to rescue Chewbacca on board the  _ Steadfast.  _ That had been the first time Finn had felt someone’s pain through the Force, he’d realized in hindsight. All he’d known at the time was that he’d felt  _ something  _ drastically wrong, and turned just in time to see Poe drop to the floor in a hail of blaster fire. Not an experience he wanted to have again. 

But none of those scars bothered Finn the way the ones left by First Order interrogators did. Not because they were ugly, or anything shallow like that. There was nothing ugly about Poe Dameron; if anything, the scars made him more interesting to look at, where he could have been too pretty by half. Finn turned his hand, the back of it stroking gently over one of the patches of linework made by the droid, pale hatch marks on olive skin. They were strangely compelling to look at, like the deliberate scarification for decoration he’d seen on people from various Outer Rim planets. 

No, they bothered him because he felt complicit. He’d been right there when Poe was captured, when all those villagers were murdered. He hadn’t done it, but he hadn’t stopped it, either. And he hadn’t broken Poe out before any of those wounds could have been inflicted. Not that he could have, realistically. Realistically, if he’d tried anything any sooner than he had, the chances for survival of both of them would have dropped to zero. But when had realism ever interfered with guilt? 

Every day, he was thankful that his defection from the First Order had come before he’d had the chance to do things that would have haunted him for the rest of his life. He wasn’t someone who could comfortably push his own crimes to the back of his mind. When he wronged someone, he couldn’t rest until he’d apologized and made amends. But the sorts of things he’d seen the First Order do...there would have been no adequate restitution he could have made. 

He’d killed people with the Resistance, of course. Soldiers, pilots. There was no winning a war without that. But he’d been able to do it knowing, every time, that he was doing it for the right reasons—if that could ever be said of killing anyone. He’d been fighting to protect his friends, and then to liberate the Galaxy. He could live with that. But he didn’t know if he could have lived with it if he’d been, say, the one who’d done this to Poe, in the cold cruelty of an interrogation chamber. His thumb stroked along the raised lines of scars again, slow and careful. Then he leaned in and kissed Poe on the cheek, still amazed by his own daring whenever he did anything like that. 

Poe didn’t move. Finn watched him a moment longer, then propped himself up on his elbow to drop a firmer kiss on his forehead. He lingered close by the pilot’s face to murmur to him. “Hey. Good morning. ...Poe?” He saw Poe’s brow crease a little, and tried again. “Poe…aren’t you hungry?”

The only answer was a displeased sort of grunt. Then Poe rolled over, burrowing his entire head under his pillow and then slinging an arm over the cushion to pin it securely in place. Finn watched in consternation, then began to chuckle. “Huh. I’ll take that as a no.”

He was hungry himself, though. Scrubbing a hand over his eyes, he slipped out from under the covers and stood, yawning. Time for a shower—the basin had definitely collected plenty of water the day before, despite the broken moisture converter. It’d be freezing cold this early in the day, although at least the rain had stopped and the sun was shining, but he could get clean. Then maybe he could scare up some breakfast for both of them.

Both of them. That was a nice thought. 

Rey was rummaging in the half-ruined hut they’d designated as the food storage shed when she spotted Finn walking to the shower. She felt a shot of happiness, seeing how he was smiling to himself even though he was walking alone, so wrapped up in his thoughts he didn’t notice her there even when he passed a short distance away. Letting him go on his dreamy way, Rey went back to searching out ingredients. She’d gotten it into her head to try cooking something she’d seen other Resistance members preparing over the campfires on Ajan Kloss. They’d called it “mess-mess,” which didn’t sound very appetizing, but when she’d gotten to try some she’d liked it. 

The idea was taking some of the instant foods in their regular ration packs (from the mess hall, hence the name), and combining them with a few local ingredients, to make something new to break up the monotony. She’d done plenty of that sort of thing herself on Jakku, but the portion packs Unkar Plutt had sold to her were so different from the ones given out by the Resistance that her old “recipes” mostly weren’t useful anymore. Let’s see...she was sure it had involved bread, and some of those packets of crackers, and the keedee egg powder...some of the dried nerf shreds…

In the end, her memory may have failed her, and the Thala Siren milk lent the whole thing a ghastly pale green color. It didn’t really taste like the mess-mess she’d had before, either; it was more...gluey. And, somehow, gritty. But it tasted all right to her, and anyway, she could never waste food. She sat down at the table rock to eat it, even if it did make her molars stick together. 

Finn, clean and still patting his hair dry, joined her when she was about halfway through, slinging himself down to sit on the edge of the flat boulder. Rey glanced up at his face and burst out laughing at how perfectly, smugly radiant he looked. “I take it things went well?”

“Oh, you could say that.” Dressed in soft pants and his flight jacket over a bare chest, he grinned at her and leaned back on his hands, palms going down on the rock behind him. “What, you didn’t Force-spy?”

She knew by the heat of her cheeks that she must be blushing, but she just shrugged, glancing away. “I mean...I couldn’t help but notice some...emotional changes, but...that’s not spying, is it?”

“Rey, I’m kidding, I know you, uh...probably felt some of...that.” He seemed to become almost as uncomfortable as she was, raising one hand to scratch at the back of his neck. But soon he was smiling again, so wide Rey couldn’t help but grin back. 

“I tuned it out as best I could,” she reassured him, before taking another bite of mess-mess. She chewed with some difficulty. The texture was getting distressingly bouncy as the mixture cooled. Had she added too much of the egg powder? “Finn, honestly, I am...so happy for the pair of you. You...what, what are you staring at?”

“ _ What  _ are you eating?” Finn pointed at her bowl, and Rey looked down at it and shrugged.

“Mess-mess. Sort of. Well, I did the best I could. Would you like some?” She offered it out to him, mildly offended when he leaned away from it with a grimace.

“It’s  _ green,  _ Rey. Mess-mess is not supposed to be green, I’m pretty sure. If it’s green, something has gone wrong.”

“That’s the Thala Siren milk.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better about...whatever that is.” He slid back to his feet then, waving it off as he headed for the food shed. “Well, I’ll figure out something else for us.”

“Us? Did he spend the night, then?” Rey perked up at that, shoveling another bite into her mouth as she took back the rejected bowl. Now that its honor had been offended she felt compelled to finish it, even if she now was having to saw it up into bite-sized chunks with her spoon. 

“Oh, yeah.” Finn grinned back at her conspiratorially, though that faded. “And he’s still asleep. I mean...the man’s been asleep, uh…” He reached into his pocket, pulling out his datapad to check the time. “Thirteen hours. Is that normal?”

“For Poe?” She swallowed after speaking around the chunk of mess-mess, forcing it down her throat with a swig of water. “Just let him have it. When we get back to Ryloth he won’t be doing that anymore.”

Finn’s smile faded, as he glanced away and then back to her. His hands slid into his pockets as he fully turned back to face her, delaying his search for breakfast. “Will we be staying on Ryloth? I mean...are we all going back there, even?”

“This time, yes, we’ll all go back. I think we’ll be needed there, for a little while at least. Help make sure that moving us all onto the new base goes smoothly. But…” she hesitated, when she saw his face fall at that one little word. She could feel it from here, the sinking of his spirits where they’d started to rise. “Finn, we can’t stay forever. We have your training to complete.”

“Can’t I train on Ryloth?” He sounded so plaintive. Rey saw his eyes shift toward his own hut, and knew, of course, why he asked. With sympathy, she shook her head.

“Not for all of it. For some, yes, I’ll do the best I can, but...there are things we’ll need to do off-world. And times we’ll need to be alone. I need to take you through the courses Leia set for me on Ajan Kloss. I want to take you back to Kef Bir, back to where I found the Sith Wayfinder, to show you…” She hesitated, then shook her head. No need to tell him now about the vision she’d had there. She only knew, somehow, that she should take her apprentice to where she’d felt great power through the Force before. Finn hadn’t shown any sign of feeling a pull toward the dark cave entrance here that had called to her when she’d first begun working with Luke, but she knew he would likely begin to experience visions soon, and wanted to guide him to where they might strike. “And we’ll need to find a kyber crystal so you can construct your own lightsaber. And...oh, so many other places, Finn. I’m sorry.”

He nodded, looking stoic, with the particular thrust his chin had when he was unhappy but trying not to show it. But she knew better, feeling for a moment the same twist in her chest that he felt in his. She rose, abandoning the by now inedible bowl of mess-mess to go take his hands and look seriously up into his eyes.

“Finn, I swear, we will do whatever it takes to make this work, all right? I can’t promise you’ll always be in the same place with him, but I can promise you’ll see him regularly, and...and keep in touch. And if you decide you can’t live with that and you don’t want to carry on with your training, well…” She swallowed, hard. “I’ll understand.”

She felt as much as saw the startled confusion on his face as he shook his head, and was almost ashamed for doubting him, and the degree of relief that washed over her. “Stop training? Rey...no way. No way! I’m not going anywhere. I just...yeah, you know, we’ll figure it out.” He flashed her a reassuring grin then, squeezing her hands. “Were you really worried I’d leave? Seriously?” He didn’t wait for an answer, his eyes narrowing on hers. She felt something in the Force, a nudge of his awareness against her presence. “You were, weren’t you?”

“I suppose I was,” she finally admitted, feeling small and defensive. Lonely in her worries, like the prickly desert creature she knew herself to be. So she was surprised when she felt something wash over her, a rush of warm emotion that flooded her from somewhere outside herself. It took a moment for her to realize it came from Finn, a gift given without thought as his eyes closed for a moment. She wasn’t sure she’d ever done something quite like it. 

It left her feeling reassured and calmed, like she’d taken a brief but warming bath in his affection. His eyes opened, meeting her gaze questioningly, as if Finn was just as uncertain as she was about what had just happened. When she offered him a smile he relaxed into a grin in return. Of course, if Finn were going to have an ability she hadn’t anticipated, it made sense it would be the gift of making others feel good. 

“Finn...thank you,” she finally managed. She released his hands only to wrap him in a tight hug, which he returned with a chuckle, squeezing her so tightly she was lifted half off her feet. He smelled good, like that aftershave he’d picked up on Ryloth that reminded her of the herb and spice vendors who would travel around Jakku. They’d pause in Niima Outpost to sell their wares from Thissermount-pulled hover carts, both the beasts and the caravans tinkling with silver bells. “We’ll figure it out,” she repeated with a firm nod.

And she’d keep her little family together, she thought, before she released Finn after an extra squeeze. Somehow. Never mind that one was a Jedi in training and the other was one of the most important and busiest people in the galaxy at the moment. They’d figure it out.

“Thanks, Rey.” Finn’s eyes were shining as they pulled away from each other, smiling a little awkwardly. “This, uh...it feels big. You know? Like...the real thing.”

“I know.” She smiled up at him and then stepped back, waving him off. “Look, take the morning. I’ll see you after lunch and we can do a bit of lightsaber training. Poe can help, bring him along.”

“Are you going to make him be a target?” 

She had to laugh at the suspicion in his voice, shaking her head. “Not quite. You’re the target. He’ll be helping me throw things at you. While you’re blindfolded.”

Finn shook his head disparagingly, turning again to head for the food, but calling over his shoulder, “You know that’s not  _ better,  _ right?”

“What? You’ll be getting to spend quality time with him!” Her grin bubbled over into laughter as he made a rude gesture without looking back at her as he walked away. She turned back to her food, only to find that the mess-mess had cooled into something resembling...well, she wasn’t sure. It was hard enough for a spoon to careen off of it without making a dent, but still soft enough to bounce high in the air several times before dribbling to a stop when she experimentally tossed it onto the rocky ground. Fascinating. Maybe she’d invented a new shock-absorbing gel while trying to make breakfast. 

Poe awoke with a jerk when he tried to roll over in his sleep and his pillow briefly pressed down on his face hard enough to startle him awake. Head muzzy, he shoved the cushion aside and then sat up, blinking and rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he tried to place where he was. Hut. Ahch-To. Not his hut, though, he realized after a moment.

Finn’s. Right. He broke into a broad smile, his face heating as the memories of the night—no, the afternoon?—before came back into focus. Helped by the fact that he appeared to be naked. He glanced under the blanket pooling in his lap. Yeah, definitely naked. 

Kriff, what time was it? He scratched his head and blinked up at the window where light was pouring in, still bleary, but awake enough to realize that sun meant daytime. And the suns had been setting when they’d fallen asleep after what had to rank as one of the most explosive orgasms of his life. Which meant this had to be the next day. Had he really slept through the entire evening and night?

He glanced down as his stomach let out a loud rumble. Maybe he had. That would explain why he felt like he could eat an entire bantha on his own. Raw. Scooting to the edge of the mattress, he started to reach for his discarded clothes, but withdrew with a grimace when his hand closed over still-damp, cold fabric. He supposed he could borrow some clothes from Finn, they were the same basic size, but...where was Finn, anyway? 

No sooner did the question cross his mind than the door opened and Finn backed in, holding a bowl in each hand. The depth of Poe’s surge of happiness at the sight of him almost startled him, as he sat back on the mattress with the blankets in his lap. He felt like he could lift off into the air with it, float on joy like he’d seen Finn make rocks and shells float with the Force. It was real, then. It had all really happened.

“Morning.” His voice was raspy, Poe realized, and he cleared his throat before trying again. “I think it’s morning, anyway.” 

Finn beamed crookedly at him as he let the door go to swing shut behind him, stepping out of his boots before he joined him on the low bed, handing him a bowl. Poe thought he looked delicious, his hair still damp and coiled tight against his head, his pants soft and clinging and his jacket hanging open. He was again aware of his own nudity in contrast, faintly insecure until he caught Finn looking him over with obvious appreciation. 

“Morning. Uh, brought you breakfast.” Finn tore his gaze back to Poe’s face and the pilot relaxed into a grin, peering down into the bowl he’d already been handed.

“That so? Thanks. Looks good.” Finn had gone for simplicity, bread and cheese with a few slices of Jogan fruit that had to be among the last of the fresh produce they’d brought along. Ravenous, Poe tore the roll in half and filled it with some of the cheese before taking a big bite. Big enough that he almost choked on it at Finn’s next words.

“You look better than breakfast.” Somehow, the quiet sincerity of Finn’s tone went straight to his heart—and other organs—in a way a smooth, suggestive delivery wouldn’t have. Poe found himself smiling even as he chewed, swallowing before he answered.

“I  _ really  _ need to brush my teeth, I have to actually shave at some point, and I definitely need a shower...but thanks. For the vote of confidence.” He leaned over, letting his lips brush against the corner of Finn’s jaw. Damn, there was that aftershave again, and he closed his eyes briefly to enjoy it. It caught him by surprise when Finn’s hand came to rest on his waist, then slowly traveled up his side, palm hot and dry against his bare skin. His breath caught audibly in his throat, eyes flying open to find Finn watching his reaction with a faint smile. 

His own smile widened at that, a little chagrined. “Yeah, I’m pretty easy.”

“Hey, I’m not complaining. It’s fun.” 

“So I’ve been told.” He tore off another bite of sandwich, winking Finn’s way. His pulse had already started to speed up, but he sternly told himself to at least finish breakfast, brush his teeth, and clean up before he jumped back on the poor man. Not that the way Finn was eyeing him made him feel like he’d mind the jumping, or whatever followed, for which Poe could think of several wonderful possibilities. 

“You know...Suralinda did mention you had kind of a reputation, back in the day.” Finn grinned as he leaned back, lying on his side and propped up on his elbow as he picked a piece of fruit out of the bowl. Poe snorted, tossing a crumb of cheese at him before laying back to mirror him. 

“You talked to  _ Suralinda  _ about me? That’s a reliable source?”

“When she’s drinking, she’s very forthcoming.” Finn plucked the piece of cheese off of the blankets, studying it a moment before he shrugged and popped it in his mouth. “I mean...was she wrong?”

“Well...no, but you still shouldn’t always believe her.” Poe polished off his sandwich, shrugging as he chewed and swallowed. “For example, if she tells you that if I get drunk enough I can be talked into—”

“—standing on a table and singing old Rebel songs, while yelling at everyone to join in on the chorus? Nah, don’t worry, she never mentioned that.” They both laughed, Poe ruefully. Then his eyes narrowed.

“Why were you talking to her about my reputation anyway?”

“Oh, you know…” Finn glanced away evasively, looking into his bowl and picking through it like he was hunting for something in particular. “I think I asked if she knew Zorii. Just...came up.”

“Zor...ah. So, you were checking if I was single?” Poe had to grin at that, before he popped a piece of Jogan fruit in his mouth and spoke around it. “Buddy, Zorii would rather shoot off her own foot than give me another chance.” He paused to chew and swallow before he resumed. “And I’m over it anyway. You got nothing to worry about.”

“I saw the eyes you were making at her after Exegol. You sure about that?” Finn’s tone was teasing, but Poe could sense the thread of insecurity under it. He reached out and covered Finn’s hand with his own. 

“Look, I said I was over it, not  _ dead. _ Did you  _ see _ what she was wearing?” When Finn laughed and pulled away, Poe grabbed his hand back, smiling as he laced their fingers together. “Finn. Seriously. When you talked to Sura, did she tell you I’d been seeing anyone recently?”

“No,” Finn admitted, watching him through half-lidded eyes. “Not since the war really started, she said. She was, uh...enthusiastic about getting you dating again.”

“Yeah, that sounds like her. Did she...say anything about…”

“You being into me? She may have mentioned it.” Finn grinned at him as his face burned. Of course she’d mentioned it. Sura and her subtlety. 

“And this was…?”

“The last night before we left. I think she, ah...wanted me to make a move while we were here.” So Finn could visibly blush, after all. The tips of his ears showed it, especially, and his cheeks were a little ruddier than normal. Poe mentally filed that image away to cherish later. 

“Yeah, she’s been basically telling me that since, uh, the first time we wound up on Ryloth. She’s...single-minded once she gets something in her head.”

“You should’ve listened to her sooner,” Finn chided, before leaning over to kiss him on the corner of his mouth. Poe smiled reflexively, then leaned forward himself, dropping his head onto Finn’s shoulder.

“Guess I should’ve. But right now feels...pretty perfect.” It felt unbelievable, actually. Especially when Finn set aside both their bowls, shed his jacket, and settled onto his back, tugging Poe down with him. His head moved to Finn’s bare chest, one arm slung over him as Finn’s arms draped comfortably around him in turn. Holding him close. That was something he’d given up on the idea of ever experiencing, and here it was. Unreal.

“It does, doesn’t it?”

“Mm. Do you need to go...do Jedi things soon?” 

“You trying to get rid of me already?” Finn’s tone was gently teasing. Poe stretched luxuriantly, then let himself really relax into him, skin on skin and firm muscle underneath. He found himself just basking in the smell of Finn and clean laundry. 

“No way. Seeing how much time I had.” His hand slid over Finn’s muscular belly, marveling again at the definition there. He really did have to get back to his exercise routine before Finn’s physique gave him a complex. 

“Well, as it happens, Rey gave me the morning off. Although you will be wanted later. To throw things at me.” Finn’s breath pulled in sharply as Poe’s hand slid north, stroking up to his chest and then back down. 

“Huh. I think I can handle that. Look…” Poe pulled away then, sitting up with the blanket puddling in his lap and smiling down at Finn. “I know we’ve got a lot to talk about. Stuff to work out. But right now I think I’m gonna wash up, then...come right back to this. Sound good?”

“Sounds good.” Finn smiled up at him, wide and lazy, and he bent to kiss him. Not too deeply, given he still needed to brush his teeth, but firm and sweet. Finn caught his necklace in one hand when he went to pull away, tugging him close again to nuzzle at the side of his neck. The rasping pull of the silver chain on the back of his neck felt distractingly good, and he was awash again with the realization that this was real. Real life, really happening. He felt like he had fizzing wine running through his veins.

“Finn…” he laughed, resting on his elbow above the younger man. He bent his head to kiss at the knobs of his collarbone, first one and then the other. “I swear, I’ll hurry back. Also...I’m gonna need to borrow some pants.”

“What would you do if I said no?”

“I don’t think Rey or the Caretakers would be very happy with that decision, but I’d have to respect it.”

“Ah, good point.” Finn released him then, and he pulled away, not without reluctance. Finn sat up as well, casting him an up and down glance when he slipped out of bed and stood up, naked as when he’d fallen asleep. Then he shook his head and rummaged in his luggage, tossing Poe a pair of the loose-fitting pants he’d been wearing whenever he trained with Rey. “Go on, before I change my mind. General.”

Grinning, Poe stepped into the pants and cinched the drawstring waist closed before he snatched up a folded towel, then sketched a mocking salute while stepping into a pair of thong sandals by the door. Just a little large, but workable. “You got it, General.”

After the gloom of the day before, the blue of the sky and the green of the moss and turf looked positively riotous. Of course, Poe’s mood might have had something to do with that. Clean and back in his borrowed pants, the towel draped around his neck, he paused on his way back to his own hut to pick up some clothes and finish freshening up, taking it in. Seabirds circled overhead on a calm breeze, the day already warmer than any they’d had in the last week. He stretched his arms out, then folded them behind his head, looking up at the sky as he likewise stretched out his chest. A few fluffy, white clouds in a blue expanse...this was weather he could get used to. 

His attention was caught by an inquiring bleep behind him. Glancing back, he grinned at BB-8 and the inevitable cluster of porgs as he dropped his arms, rolling his shoulders a few times. Sleeping so long had left him stiff, but otherwise, he felt better than he had in a long while. “Hey, buddy. What’s the news?”

BB-8 seemed to take him literally, twittering at length about what he’d been up to since the day before. Poe listened, nodding occasionally. The comms array seemed to be working properly again, the storm not having damaged it too badly. BB-8 had sent a test message and gotten an affirmative reply, though nothing more substantive had come through since. Poe hadn’t really expected much; it would take a day or two for Suralinda to get her operation underway and make any report. He was still relieved to not have any Resistance business to attend to—and then guilty in his relief.

Then it was his turn. BB-8 chirped inquisitively, head ball tilting on his base. It was an innocent enough question, but it still made Poe’s face warm, as he glanced down at the pair of Finn’s pants he was wearing. “Oh, uh...yeah. It...went well.”

BB-8’s beep this time was decidedly exasperated. He rolled forward, nudging against Poe’s bare feet. The pilot, laughing, took a step back with his hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay! Yes. Yeah. We spent the night. Together.”

Even Finn could have translated the next chirp from the droid. It was as plain as day.  _ And?  _

“And...you were right. I should’ve talked to him sooner.” He had to hand it to the astromech, although he wasn’t sure quite how he felt about admitting to himself that the little droid had given good relationship advice. BB-8 wasn’t programmed to do anything of the sort, but he had spent a long time among humanoids, Poe supposed. Or maybe the QT-unit therapy droids that were the ancestors of the BB units had contributed more than their innovative spherical propulsion systems. 

BB-8’s warbles this time sounded markedly smug. Poe grinned, nudging the droid with one bare foot. “Knock it off, nobody likes a know-it-all.” A few more chirps, and he laughed aloud as he reached to open his door. “Hey, I never said I know everything, I just said I’m a good pilot. And at least Finn likes me.” That gave him a happy little flutter in his stomach to say, one he savored. Finn did like him. More than liked him. 

He started to open the door, but was paused by a distressed little bloop from BB-8. “Hmm? Oh, yeah, some porgs keep getting...in…” Poe trailed off as the door swung open and he got a good look at the damage within. Feathers, porg droppings, bedding in disarray, the food he’d brought into his hut broken into and looted.. 

“Okay, that’s...worse than I expected.” But even as he chased down and evicted the last of the porgs from his home and began to clean up, he felt far too happy to mind much. He resolved to not fuss too much over things right now, to just take care of the worst of it, get dressed, and then go spend the rest of his morning with Finn. He’d have to track down a broom and other tools anyway, to really clean up. Even shaking out his blankets and realizing they were also covered with porg refuse and would need to be washed didn’t dampen his mood. At least they hadn’t made it into his clothes. Or his shave kit, he was happy to note. He didn’t know what he’d do with a toothbrush that had been used as a porg chew toy.

After taking care of the pressing teeth issue with the help of a flask of water, he dug out the little magnetic-backed mirror from his shave kit. Sticking it up on the nail in a support beam he’d been using for the purpose, he stared critically at himself, then grabbed some pomade to keep his hair under control while it dried. He briefly considered shaving, as he’d intended, but...that just seemed like so much time to waste while Finn only had the morning off. Tomorrow. He could shave tomorrow. He put the kit away and went for his clothes, intending to dress as quickly as possible.

But halfway through getting dressed, he paused, looking down at himself. At the blaster scar on his arm, at all the marks the war had left on him. Poe was gripped suddenly with a wave of fear that left his stomach in knots. It was odd and infuriating, the way moments like this could come out of nowhere, swamping him with emotions he couldn’t control. Sometimes it was rage, sometimes sadness, sometimes panic, sometimes, like now, plain fear. Fear not for himself, but for Finn.

“I won’t lose him.” He said it aloud in the dim hut. “He’s safe now.” He knew it wasn’t completely true. The war was mostly over, but pockets of loyalty to the First Order remained, and they’d be fighting skirmishes for years to come, if the first Galactic Civil War was any indication. More than that, Finn was training to be a Jedi, and that was anything but a peaceful life. At least he’d have new skills to protect himself with, and Rey looking out for him. It wasn’t much comfort.

Poe tipped his head back and rested his hands on the wall in front of him, letting his eyes close as he waited for this, too, to pass. Why did he have to be like this? He was finally getting what he’d wanted for years now, so why couldn’t he just have a day to just enjoy it? Maybe he’d seen too many couples torn apart in the most final way. Han and Leia. Snap and Karé. Too many others to name, at this point. Too much death. He shuddered once, then took in a deep breath and stepped away from the wall, resuming getting dressed. 

“Not today,” he muttered, shaking his head as he pulled on a shirt. “You are  _ not _ ruining things today, brain, you hear me?” Maybe talking to himself aloud and addressing his brain as a separate entity were not the best signs for his sanity, but it somehow helped. By the time he had his belt buckled and his boots on, he was feeling more himself, if a little more subdued than the high he’d been flying on earlier. “Okay. Now keep it together.”

He glanced up at his window and saw a porg sitting there, staring at him quizzically. “I wasn’t talking to you, pal.” He briefly considered shooing the bird away and finally putting up something to cover the opening, but...that could wait. Spending more time with Finn couldn’t. They’d waited long enough.

Coming right back to where they’d left off led to a morning well spent. They’d shared one self-conscious smile, Finn caught in the middle of tidying up in his compulsively neat, military way. Then they’d been on each other again, laughing incredulously between kisses. It seemed impossible, Poe thought, that this could be this easy. Very little had been easy about the last few years of his life, and this past one had been the hardest. But this, this felt as natural and easy as if nothing had changed at all between them. 

They’d wound up on the mattress again, Finn pushing him onto his back and unbuttoning the shirt he’d just put on, then driving him to distraction with a trail of kisses and nuzzles down his throat, his chest, his abdomen, lower...he wondered how he could ever have thought the younger man was some sort of inexperienced babe in the woods. His hands roamed up and down Finn’s bare back, finding the lightsaber scar, trailing over it and then digging in his nails along Finn’s spine to wring a satisfying groan out of him. 

Poe had just slid his fingers under Finn’s waistband when the other man stopped, poised over him on hands and knees in a way that had Poe’s heart in his throat. Finn cleared his throat. “I should probably...I mean...I do have to work out soon.”

“You kidding me?” Poe sighed, flopping back dramatically on the mattress. “Tease.” He smiled, though, lopsided and peering up at Finn, backlit by the late morning sun pouring in the little window. 

“I just meant I probably shouldn’t wear myself out. You, though…” Finn let his gaze trail down Poe, from his face to his waist, and Poe went still under that inspection, his skin prickling. “I owe you for last night.”

“Hate to bring it up, but I’m pretty sure you already paid that debt,” Poe drawled, playing it off coolly when he felt anything but, his stomach fluttering. He’d thought he’d had it bad before now, but having things out in the open with Finn had actually made it worse. He felt about sixteen again, all fumbling hands and nervous sweats in his anxiety to not mess this one up. What happened to that  _ reputation? _

“Yeah, that’s not exactly what I’m talking about.” Finn gave him one of those twinkling smiles before sitting back on his heels and reaching for Poe’s belt buckle. Understanding dawned and Poe lifted his hips to help as Finn tugged down his pants over them, and then the boxer briefs he probably shouldn’t have bothered with. Two layers? A belt? Where had he thought he was going, to a meeting with the Rylothian government? At least the act of being stripped was its own sort of fun. Semi-stripped, anyway. Finn didn’t seem inclined to wait any longer than necessary, tugging his pants down over his knees and then pushing those apart.

When Finn gently but insistently pushed his way between his legs, Poe’s heart thudded in his chest. When Finn’s mouth closed around him for the first time he swore breathlessly, hands grasping the blanket under him in an effort to steady himself. Poe had always loved sex  _ (“The understatement of the century,” Suralinda jeered in his head) _ , but with Finn it was already different. It didn’t feel like only the kind of relief he’d felt at the end of other dry spells; there was something else there. It was intensity he hadn’t known before, electrifying and overwhelming. 

He was quickly hard again, Finn’s tongue and lips seeing to that in short order. Poe let go of the blanket long enough to fumble for a pillow, shoving it behind his back to prop him up a bit. From that vantage point he could look down his own body, half-clothed, and at the man between his legs. That was still such an unbelievable sight he lingered there, until Finn glanced up and caught him looking. He paused long enough to smile, one hand curled around the base of Poe’s cock, and then held eye contact as he lowered his head again, guiding the tip into his mouth. His eyes closed as his cheeks hollowed, sucking with a sudden warm, wet intensity. 

Poe flung his head back with an incoherent moan, hands burying into the blanket again. He wanted to put them all over Finn, but that would require moving, and that was out of the question at the moment. He wasn’t sure he could find his own legs on a map, at the moment. Sensation had narrowed down to that exquisite ache, radiating from his groin straight up his spine and blotting out all thought. “Oh...Finn..”

The unbearably good feeling stopped, Poe gasping aloud as Finn withdrew long enough to speak, his breath rushing coolly over spit-slicked skin. “Been waiting a while to hear you say my name like that.” Finn grinned up at him once as he managed to gather his wits enough to look down at him again, then he returned to his task, bobbing lower this time and beginning to suck and relax in a leisurely rhythm. 

By the time Poe came a few minutes later, laughing and groaning and breathless, Finn had shed his own shirt and was gleaming with sweat. He released Poe from his mouth when the pilot gasped out a warning, sliding up his body so they lay chest to chest with Finn on top and Poe’s hands gripping his back, while he finished him off with a few strokes of his hand between them. It wasn’t so explosive this time, more a sweet surge through his whole body that quite literally made his toes curl against the mattress, inside the socks he hadn’t even had time to take off again. 

It subsided slowly, fading into a soft heat as they rolled to their sides, face to face. Their foreheads pressed together as they looked into each other’s eyes. At first it made Poe feel a brush of anxiety, somehow more naked than he had been a moment before. There was nowhere to hide from Finn’s eyes, so close Poe could make out the delineation between black pupils and nearly-black irises, even in the low light of the little stone hut. Then suddenly he didn’t want to hide anymore. He felt like he could fall into those dark, trusting pools and there would be nothing there but warmth and affection, and the trust that came from having put each other’s lives in the other’s hands since the day they met. 

As their breathing slowed it fell into sync. When Finn finally offered a little smile, Poe tilted his head and kissed him, full and slow and tasting himself on his lips. They stayed like that afterward for a few minutes longer, before Finn gently pushed him back onto his back and rose to dampen a towel and clean up. He tossed it to Poe, who followed suit before easing up on his elbows. “Okay...well...consider me repaid.”

“Great. But I hope you’re not too tired for more later, old man.” Finn grinned down at him before stooping to pick up his discarded shirt, then laughing and ducking as Poe whipped the towel in his direction, just missing. 

“Is that a challenge, pal?” 

“Look, all I’m saying is, how often are we gonna be all on our own and with free time and everything? I’m taking full advantage while I can.” Finn shrugged on his shirt, then came over where Poe sat on the edge of the mattress, stooping down to take his face between his hands and kiss him again. When he leaned back again, Poe’s face unconsciously lifting to follow his, his eyes were sparkling. He reached to take Poe’s shirt where it hung over his bare shoulders, pulling it closed again and doing up the top button with gentle fingers. Finn kissed him again, then straightened. “Now get dressed, let’s take a walk.”

“A walk?” Poe was struggling to keep up as the blood slowly returned to his brain, but he obediently took over buttoning his shirt, then took Finn’s offered hand to pull himself to his feet and reach for his abandoned pants. 

“Yup. Or else I’m gonna want to start that ‘more later’ now, not be able to make it to that lightsaber training, and then Rey will be mad at us.” Finn pulled on his boots without sitting back down, hopping briefly on one foot as he tugged the second up, then tossed Poe’s own boots over to him one at a time.

“That’s...you know what, that’s fair. I’m pretty irresistible.” Poe laughed as Finn threw the second boot directly at his head, knocking it aside. “Hey hey, Rey said that’s my job!”

The lightsaber training session turned out to be great fun for everyone involved. Even a few of the Caretakers stopped in their shuffling around the village to gawk at the humans as Poe and Rey ran in wild circles, hurling knotted rags and bits of driftwood at a blindfolded Finn. He started out fumbling, but soon was reliably either side-stepping out of the path of the makeshift missiles or knocking them out of the air with his practice blade. They all whooped every time he hit one, sometimes sending it soaring out to where the wind took it out to sea. 

When he connected with the last piece of driftwood and it shattered into a dozen pieces with a resounding crack, even the watching Caretakers cackled and cheered in their funny little voices. Rey grinned at the sight, glad to see them softening toward the human invaders of their sacred island. Even with her Force-enhanced strength and endurance, she was sweating, and could see Finn was as well. Poe was a good sport, but he was leaning with his hands on his knees to catch his breath, a broad smile on his face. 

“I think that’s enough for now, Finn,” she called over to him. “Excellent work.”

“When do I get a real lightsaber?” He hastily tugged off the blindfold, grinning over at her. She had to laugh—he was irrepressible, even when he was worked hard. 

“Tomorrow.” She surprised herself a little with the answer, making her mind up just then. But why not? He’d passed every test she’d put him to with flying colors. Although there was one more thing they should do first. “After I take you into the temple.”

The grin faded to something more serious, though the smile stayed in his eyes. He glanced up the steep island slope to the ancient stone temple at the top. “If you think I’m ready, I’m...honored.”

“What happens in the temple?” Poe ambled up to join them, hands in his pants pockets as he followed Finn’s gaze up the hill. He looked rather more wary than happy at the idea, and Rey aimed for reassuring as she answered.

“Nothing dangerous. Sometimes, in places like this, places of great power, the Force will...show us things. Visions. It’s difficult to explain.” Now Finn looked a little worried as well, so she smiled at both of them, then strode off between them, heading down the winding path toward the one little patch of black-sand shore the island had to offer. “Come on.”

“To where? More training?” Finn jogged a few steps to catch up, slinging the practice blade up to rest on his shoulder. Poe rolled his shoulders with a slight wince Rey felt more than saw, then followed. The arm he’d been shot in right before Exegol still bothered him from time to time, she knew. She’d have to remember that. 

“I don’t know about you, but I’m bloody hot. Let’s have a swim.”

The water was too cold and rough for much actual swimming, but they all stripped down to underthings and made the best of it. Rey almost choked herself on sea water laughing when Finn’s feet went out from under him with one particularly fast wave, and he went down with a high-pitched scream and a dramatic flail. Poe waded in to the “rescue,” laughing hard himself, only to be taken down sputtering when Finn grabbed him around the waist to drag him in deeper.

When they’d gotten too cold to stay in the water, they built a small fire there on the rocky beach from the driftwood they could find, Poe coaxing it into life as Rey went and got them a few fish to cook over it. She bartered a handful of rations for them from a couple of the younger Caretakers, the ones who were more curious than disapproving of the rowdy humans in their midst. As the suns went slowly down they cooked their dinner and dried off by the fire’s heat, shrugging back into their clothes once they could. It felt like something of a celebration. As Rey watched Finn and Poe settle in to tend the fire together, arms draped around each other’s waists and laughing as they stole quick, almost shy kisses, she knew why.

She also knew that what she’d told Finn that morning was true. She would do anything she could to make this work, even though it faced so many difficulties. That decision settled fiercely in her chest as she watched the two of them, Finn now murmuring something in Poe’s ear that made the pilot laugh, his nose and the corners of his eyes crinkling up. Their happiness, their outright joy, welled up from them, filling her senses until it almost drowned out the crash of the ocean as the tide went out behind them. They deserved this. She would see to it that they got to keep it.

And restart and reshape the Jedi Order at the same time, while Poe guided the beginnings of a new galactic government. How hard could it be?


	13. Chapter XIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It was only once he’d stepped inside the temple, leaving Rey at the slanted cave entrance, that Finn realized he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do. Go into the temple, check. He’d managed that part. What came next? He realized he was holding the lightsaber hilt tightly in both hands, and spent a moment fastening it to his belt with the magnetic clip he found attached to the base. At least he’d be ready for anything."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it's been so long between chapters! Quarantine turned my brain to mush. Mush with depression. In return, here is some writing that's ridiculously long to call a chapter. 
> 
> There are some sexy times in this one. Skip ahead when it switches to italic text if you want to give that a miss. This chapter also has some violence (fairly canon-typical) and a special appearance (sort of) from a certain ginger villain. Enjoy! Sort of!

Ahch-To’s twin suns hadn’t yet peeked over the horizon when Rey slipped out of her hut, but the sky had already become a lustrous gray streaked with pink and purple. The Jedi paused in her doorway, hands wrapped around a cup of Gatalentan tea for warmth, and watched a flock of seabirds wing their synchronized way over the Jedi temple. Today would be the day she would take Finn, her very first student, to that ancient and sacred place. First, though, there was one more thing she needed to do, and she didn’t want company to do it.

Rey turned away from the temple, picking her way down the rocky path. There was one corner of the island she hadn’t yet approached, unsure of what she’d find there, or how she’d feel when she did. She passed a few of the Caretakers out doing their early morning chores, and traded nods with them, but she didn’t mind them. It was Finn and Poe she didn’t want with her for this particular errand.

When she had climbed down almost to the sea and rounded the last corner around the crags that protected the sheltered spit of beach she had in mind, she let out a breath of...what, exactly? Relief, or disappointment? There was nothing there anymore. Nothing but the circle of blistered soot that marked the spot where she’d burned Kylo Ren’s—Ben Solo’s—ship. Steeling herself, she began to walk a slow circle around the perimeter, feeling the ghosts of the emotions that had driven her to that place well up inside her. They were still there. Not nearly as strong, but still haunting her. 

She’d told the truth when she’d told Poe that she had bad dreams, too. Hers usually weren’t on Exegol, for whatever reason. Exegol had been a trial, and it had meant a terrible and confusing loss, but it had also been a triumph. No, what haunted her sleep on unlucky nights was the sea of Kef Bir. It was waves towering over her, only the Force showing her the path through them, toward the unseeing eye of the wreck of the Death Star. And on the worst nights of all, it was what she’d seen in the ruined throne room—herself, changed by the Dark Side into some  _ thing,  _ some predator she scarcely recognized but somehow knew in an instant.

She’d fled here in Ben’s ship after first nearly killing him in a fit of rage, then bringing him back from the brink through a power she’d only just started to understand. She’d flown sobbing, sometimes scarcely able to see the controls, away from it all. Away from towering waves and the colossal skeleton of an old war; from friends pursuing her as well as enemies; from the loss of Leia tearing a hole in her heart; and most of all, away from the vision of that shadowy other self. From the knowledge that Ben had given her, of where she’d come from and what she could become.

Rey crouched down, laying her hand on a patch of blackened rock and closing her eyes. She’d fled here in the stolen TIE Whisper, to the one place in the galaxy where she knew no one could follow her, fully intending never to leave. She was too dangerous, surely. What if her friends found out who she was? Would the Resistance turn on her? She knew that Leia had been all but pushed out of the Senate when the fact of her father’s identity had been published by a rival, and Leia had been a beloved hero of the New Republic for decades at that point. How much worse to be linked by blood to Palpatine, worse even than Darth Vader?

As much as rejection would hurt, though, she’d feared for her friends, and for the galaxy at large. If the vision in the Emperor’s throne room had told her anything, it was that if she fell to the Dark Side, she would become a terror, perhaps beyond anything the galaxy had ever seen. It was in her, this possibility, and she couldn’t deny it. She’d fought Kylo—no, Ben—with a ferocity that had shocked her in hindsight. The feral joy of victory she’d felt when she ran him through had frightened her worse than any of the many close brushes she’d had with death. It had echoed the rush of exultation she’d felt the one time she’d produced Force lightning, a memory she still didn’t feel safe in revisiting. 

Rey pressed both palms to the earth, willing herself to stillness and opening her senses to the Force. The last time she’d stood in this spot, teary and soot-streaked and hurling rocks and then the Skywalker lightsaber toward the inferno, Luke had appeared to her and set her straight. She didn’t feel his presence now, but there was something. An echo of her feelings, drifting down through time, able to be observed and held a moment before dissolving like smoke. Loss. Fear. Unbearable sorrow, in leaving behind the only family she’d ever really known. Guilt, too, for healing an enemy she knew would still be out there, fighting those people she’d left behind. She took in a deep breath, releasing it slowly as she willed herself to let the memories wash over her. 

The question she’d brought to the shore with her, that she’d hoped could perhaps be answered once and for all, was whether or not that shadowy self she’d faced in the throne room was still a possibility. If it was, she must know soon. If it was, she had no business training an apprentice, or restarting the Jedi order for that matter. Yet here she was, about to take Finn for his first visit to the first Jedi temple. She’d hoped, if that self still existed within her, that exploring the ruins of the First Order ship would bring on some kind of knowledge. So far, though, the soot-stained rocks kept any secrets to themselves.

Feeling a twinge in her awareness through the Force, or maybe just sensing eyes on her back, Rey glanced over her shoulder. Watching her from a short distance away was Alcida-Auka, matriarch of the Caretakers, easy to recognize not just from her blue eyes and pale grayish skin, but from the air of quiet authority she carried with her. The old Lanai woman was so dignified, for a creature that looked like a cross between a flightless bird and a fish. 

<Fishing?>

Rey had only a moderate grasp of the Lanai language, but she’d always been good at making herself understood. Only recently had she realized that this was the Force acting through her, making it easy to sense the intentions of any speaker she could even half-understand. It seemed to work in reverse, too, transmitting her own intentions on some wavelength she couldn’t begin to grasp just yet. <Not for fish, Mother,> she finally replied in a passable accent, shrugging as she straightened from her crouch. 

<For memory?> The old woman hitched up her habit, waddling a few steps closer. She was surprisingly graceful on the rocks, hopping from one to another with the ease of someone who had done it her whole long life. 

Rey nodded, glancing out to sea. That was where Luke had raised his old X-wing out of the water, giving her a way back to the Resistance. That was the thing about this ancient, small island. Every inch of it was soaked in memories, thousands of years worth. Her own were a mere blip in that history. <The ship I burned here. Where did it go?>

<To the other place,> Alcida-Auka replied, adding a word Rey didn’t recognize. She gestured with one of her stubby, three-fingered hands, off to the east. <The men came and took it. Bit by bit. It’s where all such things go.>

The Jedi frowned in thought as she followed the gesture with her eyes. She couldn’t spot another island out there, but she knew from flying overhead that the planet was dotted with them. No larger land masses, but hundreds, maybe thousands, of little rocky islands like this one. <All ships?>

<All things from the outside.> The Lanai woman made a gesture Rey had noticed before, a press of her fingertips to her mouth, then to the sky. Some kind of genuflection, she assumed, though she knew very little of the religion of the Caretakers. 

It made sense. The planet had been the destination of various Force-sensitive pilgrims for thousands of years, though hidden away for the last few centuries. There would have to be remnants of ships somewhere, ancient wrecks and bits of debris fallen from the sky. Maybe even some lost ships from the first Galactic Civil War. They were out there somewhere to the east, in their own technological graveyard, where they couldn’t pollute the temple island with their outside ways. She felt a twinge of guilt for the comms array and other bits of technology they’d brought with them, which she’d seen the Caretakers eye with disapproval. She hoped they didn’t mind BB-8, at least. They’d seemed comfortable with the droid thus far, a creature of their own size and general shape. Possibly they didn’t really understand that he was a machine.

<Thank you, Mother.> It was what the other Caretakers called the matriarch, and nothing else felt right for Rey to use, though Alcida-Auka certainly looked nothing like Rey’s shadowy memories of her own mother. It seemed to please the Lanai, though, who waddled close enough to place a hand on her elbow.

<You will stay?> The Caretaker looked up at Rey with intent blue eyes, wide-set and circled by wrinkled gray flesh. <Teach more Jedi?>

Rey hesitated, looking out to sea again. There was something sinuous moving under the surface out there, some large creature she could only see by the way it roiled the water above. That was how the vision of herself she’d seen in the ruined throne room felt: a threat causing ripples in her mind but refusing to be brought out into the light for examination or banishment. Was this how Ben had felt, before he’d fallen? How much of his fall had been a voluntary leap, and how much a hard shove from powers beyond his control? There were so many questions she wanted to ask him, still. So many things she had to know, to avoid the road he’d traveled by.

Far out on the waves, a dark and spiny back broke the water, followed by the swift flick of an enormous, snake-like tail as the distant creature dove again. Rey shivered, glancing away. For a moment, she had the same unsettled feeling she’d had, the same drop in the pit of her stomach, as she’d had when Ben had looked her in the eye and told her she would turn. For a moment, she felt his presence so strongly she almost thought she would see his blue-lit ghost when she turned away from the water again. 

<Not staying, Mother,> she finally answered. <Not forever. But...I will come again. And there will be more Jedi.> And she’d just have to hope she was doing the right thing. The Force didn’t seem inclined to answer the question one way or the other, today.

“Hold him still.” The voice was clipped and testy, the clearest thing about a scene that was only slowly coming into focus for Poe. Sweat in his eyes. Or blood. Or maybe they’d given him something. No, they had, he remembered, General Organa had told him they’d have drugs. They’d all known about the drugs, about the torture droids—sorry, “enhanced interrogation units”—that the old Empire had used to great effect on Leia herself and that the First Order had adopted eagerly and “improved” upon. They’d trained, but even being put through his paces by an old Imperial unit hadn’t really prepared him. Nothing could.

His gaze swimming, Poe could only focus on the pale face looming over him, flanked by the impassive masks of stormtroopers. He knew General Armitage Hux by his red hair and unhinged eyes before he even saw the rank insignia, as they’d all received intelligence training on known players in the First Order. So he was getting some high-ranking attention. That didn’t seem like good news for him, but maybe they’d try to trade him, or at least keep him alive a little longer. Of course, that also wasn’t necessarily good news for him, given how “being alive” was going. He was already aching in a couple dozen places from the expertly deployed baton blows of the stormtroopers who’d been the first line of this interrogation, and unfortunate experience told him that he had at least one cracked rib and a couple of broken fingers. And to judge by the instrument in Hux’s hand, things were about to get worse.

The drugs made him feel so slow, like he was moving underwater. He was also already restrained, already cuffed to the damn table, but he still yanked uselessly at his bonds, trying to twist away as he realized what was in Hux’s hand was some sort of electrical prod. One stormtrooper cracked him sharply over the temple with the back of an armored hand, while two others pressed his shoulders down against the table. He subsided, head pounding, as Hux directed them to pull back his jacket and shirt, and...this was always where things started to slide apart into unreality, his memory riddled with gaps and his brain trying its best to fill them in even when he wished it wouldn’t.

“You can make all this stop, you know. Just tell me. Tell me what you did with the map, little rebel.” The first shock, delivered to the sensitive skin of his belly, had been appallingly painful. Poe gasped and tried to twist away again, earning him another crack across the face. Still, he did summon up the energy to answer.

“Little? Go stick a blaster up your ass and pull the trigger.” Not the most eloquent comeback, and his voice was slurred and cracking, but under the circumstances he thought he’d done pretty well. His reward was another shock, this one just over a bruise on his side already blackening from earlier. The pain was enough to drive the breath out of his body.

“Let’s try that again, shall we?”

And they had. Poe wasn’t sure how long, exactly, Hux worked on him. It could have been hours, for all he knew, because his sense of timing had slid out the airlock when the droid first slipped a needle into his vein. There would be a question, and then pain when he didn’t give a satisfactory answer. He knew that the general kept smiling, when he wasn’t grimacing in frustration, clearly enjoying himself even as the interrogation went nowhere. There were snatches of things said that he could remember, drifting around him and surfacing into his conscious memory from time to time. 

_ “No, leave the clothes. Filthy things. We want him identifiable for the holos.” _

_ “Can’t you give him more of the serum, you useless machine?”  _

_ “Negative. Vital signs would be endangered.” _

_ “Why won’t you talk, damn you? Is your pathetic Resistance really worth all this?” _

_ “Sir, perhaps the droid…” _

_ “Very well. The iron, I think. Ten lines, first. Then we’ll see if he’s ready to talk.”  _ That pain was new. The smell of the cauterizing iron, why couldn’t he at least forget that much? Honestly, though, the droid wasn’t as bad as Hux. The droid, he could predict. Hux’s prod landed wherever and whenever he pleased, leaving Poe no opportunity to brace himself, while the droid followed its programmed patterns. 

And still, he didn’t talk. He wanted to run away, he wanted to beg, he wanted to fight them, but he didn’t want to tell the bastards a damn thing, and so he simply didn’t. He knew the longer he could hold out, the more time BB-8 had to get away. The more time the Resistance had to realize what had happened to him and change codes he had access to, maybe even move bases. If he could last a few days without cracking—and he was sure he could, because he knew they didn’t have time for more effective methods than sheer brutality—he’d be nearly useless to the First Order. He’d been through a lot of physical pain in his life, and knew how to function and fly even when he was injured or when bearing the brunt of terrible acceleration forces or failing life support systems. He’d also always been “maddeningly stubborn,” to quote one of his first commanders, and it seemed that was a good trait to withstand torture without breaking. He’d have to send the man a note, if he ever got out of here.

That currently felt like a very big “if.”

_ “Don’t you want it to stop? Don’t you want it more than anything?”  _ That last was said so close to his ear, an almost tender whisper that felt far too intimate and all the more threatening for it. Poe flinched away, and then a leather-gloved hand grabbed him by the chin. Hux pulled his face back into position, meeting his eye. Even in his muddied state, Poe was chilled by the look he saw on the First Order general. Despite his displays of temper when he didn’t get the answers he wanted, he was clearly having an excellent time, drinking in the pain and terror he’d caused. His pupils were dilated, eyes glassy and pale cheeks flushed like a lover’s. 

Poe swallowed with difficulty, and spoke in a rasp. “Actually...I’d rather have a drink. You got any Corellian whiskey in this dump?”

Hux’s face twisted into a snarl, which turned to an undignified yelp of pain when Poe took advantage of his shifting grip to bite his hand. Hard, even through the glove, hard enough to make the ginger general cringe and shout hysterical orders to his stormtroopers to help him. Poe hung on with grim satisfaction even as troopers swarmed him, shouting orders and trying to pull him off. He held on until Hux had the presence of mind to press the sizzling prod to his chest until he had to open his mouth to scream, unable to choke it back any longer. Hux shoved his head back against the table with a painful bounce as he yanked his hand away.

“Let Ren have him once the droid is finished,” Hux snapped as he turned away with a flourish of his black coat and a shake of his hand, trailed by most of the guards. 

Poe called after him, with a hysterical little laugh bubbling up under his broken voice. “Okay, so that’s a no on the whiskey. Starfire ‘skee? Spicebrew? C’mon, man, you’re a terrible date.” Hux didn’t dignify that with a response, though his shoulders stiffened as he stomped out. “At least hold my hand!”

In the far corner of the dark room, something stirred. A tall figure, all in black, except the silver touches on his mask. “Comfortable?” The voice was too loud, too flat, electronic. No, he wasn’t supposed to be here yet, Poe thought, the little part of him that could sometimes detach from these nightmares. The part that told him to wake up, even as he couldn’t. He’d had time to rest, before, why was this happening now?

He didn’t respond, just jerking against his bonds. In real life he’d been so exhausted he’d barely been able to struggle at all at that point, and had had some smart answer ready. Now he just wanted so much to get away from the approaching figure of Kylo Ren that he was breaking the pattern of the dream, trying to push his way out of the long grooves worn in his memory.

“I’m impressed. No one has been able to get out of you...what you did...with the map.” Ren’s voice had started on almost a croon, but by the time he got to the end, looming over Poe, it was sharp with malice. He was so close Poe held his breath, pressing himself as tightly as he could to the bed—no, the table—below him, just trying to avoid even so much as that creature’s robe brushing against him. 

“Please just let me go.” That wasn’t what he’d said on the  _ Finalizer _ . It had been what he’d  _ wanted _ to say by then, under the bravado he’d managed not to let down until the end, but he hadn’t. But it was what he said now, in this other space that felt so real. Ren’s gloved hand rose anyway, and that terrible pressure was building in his head. It was like being a tire filled with too much air; like an Armored Eel was trying to drill its way into his skull. It was alien, an invasion he couldn’t resist any more than he could have stopped Hux and his prod or the torture droid and its array of tools and syringes.

“Please...please just let me go…” He hadn’t begged then, but he did now, shutting his eyes tightly against the pressure of the Force. Not that it would do any good. Not that anything he’d done to try to resist this had done any good. He was still going to suffer more than he’d thought possible even after hours of torture, still going to betray his friends and his cause, still going to give up BB-8 and the map to Luke Skywalker. Still going to fail. It was inevitable. It was past. It had already happened, so why did it have to  _ keep happening _ ? Why did it all have to keep happening? 

“Poe. Poe...” Ren had never called him by name before. This wasn’t in the script of his memory. The thought that he might not even know what was about to happen sent his stomach plummeting, abject panic making him yank against the cuffs around his wrists even as they unexpectedly tightened their grip. 

“Let me  _ go!” _

“Okay, okay, it’s all right!” That wasn’t Kylo Ren’s voice, but the pressure on his wrists was suddenly released. Poe’s eyes flew open and his hands went up, shoving upward instinctively to push away the dark figure hovering over him. It grunted, falling back beside him in a flurry of movement.

Poe shoved himself up on his elbows and scrambled away to the edge of the mattress, frantically blinking sweat out of his eyes as he labored to catch his breath. The abrupt shift in scene left him bewildered for a long moment, his brain trying to reconcile the nightmare with reality as his vision adjusted to the low dawn light. Stone walls. Stone floor. The smell of the sea.

Ahch-To. 

Why did his wrists and throat hurt? Why didn’t the rest of him?

_ Who did he push? _

“Poe? You, uh…you awake?” Finn’s voice was hesitant. Poe slowly turned his head to look at him, dreading what he might see. But Finn seemed fine, if startled, kneeling on the opposite side of the mattress with one hand resting on it for balance. Poe was flooded with shame and horror, realizing he must have shoved Finn away when he was waking. 

“Finn? Did...I didn’t hurt you, did I?” He twisted to fully face Finn, though he stayed pressed close to the wall for now, not wanting to get any closer. He felt like a monster, his gaze hurriedly scanning over Finn for any hint of damage. 

“No! No, I just...I was trying to hold you still and wake you up. You just pushed me when I let go. Are you...okay?” Finn inched closer, heartbreakingly cautious. Poe closed his eyes, willing his breathing to slow down. He wrapped his own arms around his bare chest, dropping his chin down and noticing dully that he was, once again, shaking like an overclocked starship engine. His throat was aching, and he knew that meant he must have been shouting in his sleep. He didn’t always, when the dreams came, but sometimes...BB-8 had told him. So that was an extra humiliation. He should have known better than to be spending the night, not when he was like this, but oh, he’d wanted to so badly.

“I’m...okay. Finn, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to…” he tried, but failed to get the sentence any further. Tears welled up in his eyes and he closed them tighter, pulling his knees to his chest and burying his face against them. 

“Hey, hey, no…” Finn sounded closer, and Poe felt the mattress shift under him as the other man scooted across it to join him. “No, I know you didn’t mean to. Of course you didn’t. C’mere.”

Poe cracked open his eyes to look at Finn, close to him now, and saw nothing there but concern in his large, dark eyes. Finn opened his arms, and after a second’s hesitation, Poe peeled himself away from the wall and fell into them. Finn pulled him into a tight embrace, and he burrowed into it gratefully as the younger man guided him back down onto the bed and tugged the blankets back up over them both. Poe was clammy with cold sweat, but Finn didn’t seem to mind, wrapping him securely in his arms and letting Poe press his face into the crook of his neck. 

“You want to talk about it?” Finn asked after a quiet moment, once Poe’s breathing was a little closer to normal and the shivering had mostly subsided. 

“Mm. You probably figured out, you know, the gist,” Poe mumbled against his neck. He was still awash with shame, but being in Finn’s arms was the only thing he’d ever wished for in these circumstances, and it turned out to be just as calming and comforting as he’d hoped. He was too shaken to worry much about his dignity, at the moment. 

“Was it…” Finn hesitated, his hand coming to rest on the sweat-damp curls at the back of Poe’s head as he searched for the right words. “What happened on the  _ Finalizer?  _ From what I could understand from what you were saying, I thought maybe…”

“Yup. Sabacc. Right on the money.” Poe curled in on him a little tighter, putting his leg over Finn’s for extra measure. Finn released his head long enough to pull the blankets up further over Poe’s shoulders before going back to running his fingers slowly through his hair. It made Poe feel a bit like a nervous runyip being soothed, but he didn’t mind it. It worked. He was exhausted, like he’d run for miles in his sleep, which made the whole night’s sleep feel like kind of a waste, but at least his heart was starting to slow down. “Did I, uh...what woke you up?”

“Maybe the Force, first. But you were making a lot of noise.” Finn’s voice was gentle, but Poe still winced. He opened his mouth to apologize, but Finn’s hand firmly cupped the back of his head, silencing him as he continued. “Don’t be sorry. Not your fault. Anyway, I don’t want you to have to go through this by yourself anymore. You’ve done enough of that.”

“Thanks,” Poe whispered after a moment, unsure what else to say. Finn turned his head to press a kiss to his forehead in answer, and Poe closed his eyes, once again unable to believe his luck. They lay curled together like that for a few minutes, Poe’s breathing gradually slowing to match Finn’s. His weariness was tugging at him, tempting him to drift back to sleep, but fear kept him from allowing himself to follow through. There had been too many times he’d woken from a nightmare and managed to get back to sleep only to be dropped right back into it. 

Finn finally spoke, just as Poe was starting to reluctantly think he’d have to move if he wanted to stay awake. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Poe peeled away from Finn’s shoulder, propping himself up on his own elbow just enough to be able to look at Finn’s face. Concern had worn a crease between his eyebrows, the corners of his full mouth downturned. 

“For not getting you out of there sooner. For…for being there, I guess. Part of it all.” 

Poe was shaking his head before he’d even finished, reaching out to cup the side of Finn’s face in his hand. “No, no. You’ve got...nothing at all to be sorry about. They took you when you were a little kid, Finn, what kind of choice did you have? Anyway…” He took in a deep breath, considering his words for a moment, for once. Maybe it was a little intense, but...what the hell, it was true. “I’d do it all over again. To get to meet you.”

“Poe…” Finn seemed at a loss for how to respond to that, and Poe almost regretted saying it. Almost. Finn finally reached for his face, stroking his cheek with the back of his hand. “No one should go through that.”

“Lots of people have.” Poe watched Finn’s eyes steadily, not quite sure what he was looking for. For some hint of doubt, maybe, some clue that the younger man had realized he was making a huge mistake, hooking up with this battle-shocked, cracked-up pilot. He didn’t see anything there but sincerity, but he couldn’t stop searching. 

“I know. But...no one should.” Finn’s hand turned, the palm resting on Poe’s cheek while the tip of the thumb tapped against the center of his lower lip for emphasis. Poe tilted his head down to press a brief kiss to Finn’s knuckle before nodding. 

“That’s what the war was for, yeah? I just wish...wish I dealt with it better. Like I used to, with other...stuff that happened, before.” He said it in a rush, the words tumbling out before he could think better of them. “I know so many people who went through something like that and they’re just…they’re fine. General Organa. Wedge Antilles, the Imps had him for days. Ransolm Casterfo, they had him  _ six years _ , he seems fine, he’s working again…”

The words kept pouring out of him, even though he’d never consciously tallied up this list. It was as if his mind had been keeping tabs behind his back, taking officious notes of everyone who seemed to be coping better with the scars of the war than he was. “Rey went through hell, how is she doing okay? How are  _ you _ ? I know the way you were raised was no picnic, how are you so…” Poe trailed off, sighing out the rest of his breath as he rolled over to flop onto his back, pinching the bridge of his nose. “...together?” 

Finn chuckled, rolling onto his elbow to peer down at Poe, one hand stroking casually over his chest. Over all the little scars there, reminders from the First Order, as well as the faded ones from other times. Some of them felt like a lifetime ago. It felt so good, but Poe wished the skin under Finn’s hand was smoother. “First of all, thanks. Glad you think I seem together.”

“You’re welcome.” Poe smiled crookedly up at him. He noticed with pleasure, even in his wrung-out state, that Finn’s eyes lit up in response when he did that. The smile was returned, but then Finn’s tone turned more serious, though gentle.

“Listen. There was a time, sometime after Crait...I was having some trouble. Having some nightmares, just...not feeling great, you know?” Finn’s gaze dipped, fastened on some memory Poe couldn’t see. “Mostly it was about...back in the woods. On Takodana.”

“You didn’t tell me.” Poe’s face warmed when Finn flashed him an amused look at that. Like he was one to talk.

“You had plenty on your plate, man. Too much. Anyway, I didn’t tell anyone. Except Dr. Kalonia.”

“I know, I will definitely talk to her when we’re back. When it can be private,” Poe interjected, knowing he sounded defensive, and Finn gave him that amused look again. The one that said he wasn’t quite buying it, but he was going to let it slide for now.

“I know. And I’m gonna make sure you do. But what she said was that everyone who comes to her with battle shock always thinks they’re the only one. That they’re weak, that they’re...alone.” Finn watched Poe’s face intently as he spoke. Poe looked away under the scrutiny, nibbling on his lower lip, until finally forcing himself to return Finn’s gaze.

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. But they’re  _ not.  _ She sees people for it all the time. People you wouldn’t expect. You can never guess who it’s going to be. It just...happens. The right circumstances at the right time for that particular person, and…” Finn mimed a little explosion with the hand that had been resting on Poe’s chest. “Boom.”

“But why…”

“Why you and not others?” Finn finished. Poe nodded, and Finn shrugged. “No good answer. And some people have it just for a little while, and some people...it keeps going. She said it happens more when it’s something you couldn’t stop, something that made you feel...helpless.” Finn hesitated awkwardly over the last word, and Poe reached up to squeeze his hand in reassurance. 

Helpless was indeed the right word for what he’d been when Finn had met him for the first time. It was the right word for how he’d felt watching bombers and transport ships going down as a result of his decisions, or the hangar on the  _ Raddus  _ going up in flames in front of his eyes, or shouting useless warnings to his best friend while watching him get blown to pieces above Exegol. It was also, he’d decided, his least favorite state of being. Helplessness was the opposite of action, and action was what he liked best. What he was good at. It was some small relief just to know that there was some sense to how this thing, this sickness, struck.

“That, uh...that makes sense.” 

Finn squeezed his hand in return, locking eyes with him, his voice low and intent. “You are not weak, Poe. And you sure as hell aren’t alone.”

“I’m definitely not now.” Poe lifted their intertwined hands to his lips, kissing the back of Finn’s. It earned him a slow smile, which turned mischievous before Finn pushed up to roll on top of him, pinning him to the mattress with hands on either side of his head. Poe’s heart jumped, and a grin spread over his face as Finn peered down at him.

“Nope. You’re  _ definitely _ not alone now.” Poe’s arms twined over Finn’s back in response, pulling him in for a slow, warm kiss. Finn’s weight resting along his whole body maybe should have made him feel trapped, but it didn’t. It felt like a security blanket, a reminder that indeed, he wasn’t alone at all. Finn kissed him again, harder this time, and the lingering unease left by his dream faded a little more. 

Finn’s lips shifted to his ear after a moment, murmuring right there. His warm breath made the skin of Poe’s neck prickle, and the words made him swallow hard. “You weren’t alone last night either, were you?”

“That is...very true,” Poe conceded, his cheeks—and other parts—flushing warm at the memory.

_ After their frigid swim, after the impromptu dinner on the shore, after they’d bid Rey goodnight, they’d looked at each other sidelong, suddenly shy, as they paused on the path between their huts. Finn was the one to break the silence, snagging Poe’s hand and then the other as he tugged the pilot to turn and face him. “Got any plans for the night?” _

_ Poe couldn’t stop himself from grinning. Not that he wanted to, but it felt entirely out of his control anyway. He didn’t think he’d smiled this much or felt so giddy since he was a kid flying his mom’s A-wing on stolen jaunts, evading Yavin IV’s Civilian Defense Force just for the hell of it. This...what were they going to call it, romance? A relationship? Whatever it was, it gave him that same feeling—that swoop in the pit of his stomach, that heady feeling of invincibility—that flying gave him, whenever Finn looked his way. “Can’t say that I do.” _

_ Finn released his hands, hooking his thumbs into Poe’s belt instead and pulling him a little closer, hips-first. Poe went willingly, their lips meeting as naturally as if they’d been kissing all along, ever since they met. As if they’d had plenty of practice. Finn breathed out a question when they parted, as he reached up to tuck a curl behind Poe’s ear. “My place?” _

_ Poe, belatedly remembering his own hut was still a mess from the porg invasion anyway, nodded breathlessly, his head tilting into Finn’s touch. It had been so long since he’d had any real affectionate touch that he was still desperate for it, even after all their adventures of the past...could it only be a day and a half? “Sounds good.” _

_ They were fumbling urgently at each other’s clothes by the time they stumbled through the door, Finn laughing as he took three tries to figure out Poe’s belt buckle, Poe swearing as he knocked his elbow against the stone door frame. There was a clatter as they backed into a stack of crates, too busy kissing to look where they were going, but they didn’t bother to stop long enough to figure out what they’d knocked over. That could wait.  _

_ By the time they made it onto the mattress Poe was kicking off his socks and Finn was helping him shuck his pants, his own having already been abandoned along the way. Finn all but fell on top of him as Poe sprawled on his back, grinning hard and stifling a laugh.  _

_ “What’s so funny? Hm?” Finn nuzzled under his chin, straddling his prone body with his hands resting on the mattress to either side of his head. Poe laughed again, unable to help it, and Finn grinned down at him, eyes almost disappearing behind those high cheekbones.  _

_ “It’s not funny! It’s just...I’m really  _ happy.”  _ As he said it, the truth of it flooded Poe with warmth, like he was basking in a sudden sunbeam. He ran his hands up Finn’s smooth chest, marveling again at his solid musculature and velvety skin; at being allowed to touch what he’d wanted to touch for years, now. In return, Finn slid his hands behind Poe’s head, his fingers interlacing there as he leaned down to kiss the pilot.  _

_ “That is,” he said when he drew back again for a breath some time later, “the nicest thing I ever heard.” His smile softened before he briefly touched his nose against Poe’s, eyes closing. “I definitely want to make you happy, Poe Dameron.” _

_ “Yeah, well…” Poe floundered a moment. Incurable romantic though he may be, as some past lovers had informed him, he still wasn’t great at  _ receiving _ a romantic gesture, or kind words. “The feeling’s mutual. I mean...I kinda want to return the favor.” _

_ “Do you? I could think of, uh, one or two things that could make me happy, right about now.” Finn lightly rolled his hips against Poe’s with that irrepressible grin of his, only the thin layers of their underwear between them. Poe bit his own lower lip while he smiled up at Finn in return, a warm rush of interest flooding his groin.  _

_ “Yeah? I bet I could guess what you might have in mind.” His hands trailed down Finn’s chest, over those  _ glorious  _ abs (okay, he promised himself, 100 crunches first thing in the morning, tomorrow), drifting lower. Finn rocked forward with a little noise in his throat when Poe’s hand passed over the bulge in his boxer briefs. That still felt so new and daring, doing that.  _

_ “I’m sure you’ve...got the general idea,” Finn managed, a catch in his breath. “I’m just...hoping you like the specifics.” He suddenly sounded almost shy, and Poe paused, his interest piqued. He tilted his head to one side in inquiry, and Finn sat up, one hand balanced against Poe’s chest. Finn studied him for a moment and Poe felt himself beginning to blush under the frank assessment and approval in his expression. Finn was open about it, letting his gaze travel up and down Poe’s torso, lingering on his throat before returning to his eyes.  _

_ “See…I’ve been wanting to fuck you for months.” _

_ Poe’s breath caught in his throat, his pulse hammering in his ears as he stared up at Finn. It took him a moment to find his voice, and when he did it was only to say, “Oh. Oh, wow.” _

_ A look of uncertainty flashed over Finn’s face, and Poe hastily shook his head as he began to speak. “I mean, if you think that’s moving too fast…” _

_ “No, no! I mean it was what, two hours between our first kiss and your dick winding up in my mouth?” That got a surprised laugh out of Finn, and Poe grinned up at him, tapping a finger to Finn’s chin and then trailing it over his throat, down his chest. The pecs, now, if anything was going to give him a complex it was those pecs. A complex, or the vapors. “I’m obviously not strictly opposed to fast.” _

_ “You said you didn’t want to rush things.” Finn sounded more tentative now, feeling out the boundaries of this new dimension to their relationship.  _

_ Poe sighed. Shrugged. “I say a lot of things. And then there I am, five minutes later, with a dick in my mouth. Story of my life.”  _

_ Finn snorted with laughter then, slapping lightly at Poe’s chest as Poe laughed too. He folded his arms behind his head, cushioning it as he grinned up at Finn, who slid his hands slowly along Poe’s chest, then up to wrap around each of his upper arms with a firm grip. Poe’s smile faded into a more quizzical look, his eyebrows lifting as he stared up at Finn. The younger man’s weight dropped a little lower, shifting to lightly pin Poe’s arms and chest down against the mattress as Finn lay over him, their hips pressed together so that he could feel Finn’s rising interest.  _

_ Poe’s pulse quickened as he saw the same look of concentrated intention on Finn’s face that he’d seen there in their earlier escapades. It was a look he’d seen before, he realized, when he’d been fighting alongside Finn on the battlefield. It was that intense focus and drive for perfection that made Finn an excellent warrior and officer, but it was thrilling and unnerving all at once to have it focused solely on him.  _

_ Finn broke the silence, a faint smile playing along his full lips. “Huh. So that’s how to make you stop talking. Interesting.” _

_ Poe couldn’t seem to stop himself from making a smart answer. He was constitutionally incapable of admitting to any such thing without at least trying to make a joke of it. “What, a dick in my mouth? It’s pretty effective, yeah, as methods go.” _

_ “Wasn’t what I meant. But I’ll keep it in mind.” Finn smiled down at him, his eyes narrowed and his hands still wrapped firmly around Poe’s biceps. “So...let me just ask you, General.” _

_ “Yes, General?” Poe strove for irreverence, one corner of his mouth lifted in a crooked grin. Finn returned it, then leaned low to murmur near his ear, his weight pushing Poe further down into the mattress.  _

_ “Can I fuck you?” _

_ “Permission to come aboard granted.” It was out of his mouth before Poe had a chance to stop himself. Luckily it just cracked Finn up, his whole face breaking into the grin Poe loved more than sunshine.  _

_ “Okay, well, now I don’t want to,” Finn deadpanned once he’d managed to stop laughing, making as if to climb off of Poe, who quickly wiggled his arms free to haul him back as he laughed.  _

_ “I couldn’t help it! Come back! Yes, yeah, you can. Yes.” _

_ “I can what?” Finn asked once they’d both quieted down to smiles. His tone caught Poe by surprise—there was a challenging note to it. The pilot blinked up at him. _

_ “What?” _

_ “Say it. What I can do.” _

_ Understanding dawned, and Poe swallowed, his mouth suddenly dryer than it had been a moment ago. His face heated as he licked his lips, then answered in a quiet, steady voice. “Yes. You can fuck me.” _

_ “That is...so hot,” Finn breathed, then bent to kiss him, hard and hungry. Poe groaned softly when he finally pulled away, biting his lip as Finn nuzzled his way down his neck, nipping at the crook of it. Not hard enough to really hurt, just enough to make him gasp. _

_ “That okay?” Finn murmured, lifting his head to check in. Poe nodded hard, his hand wrapping around the back of Finn’s neck to pull him in close again. _

_ “Yeah. Yep. You should feel free to, uh, do that whenever you wanN—” Poe ended on a little choked note as Finn’s teeth found purchase on the muscle between his neck and shoulder, biting down and sucking hard enough to make him moan aloud and shift under Finn’s insistent weight. _

_ Finn worked his way down Poe’s torso, licking, biting, pausing to suck on a nipple as he slid lower. Poe writhed under him without shame, the last vestiges of control leaving him as Finn’s hand worked its way between their bodies, sliding over his underwear before starting to peel them off. By the time they’d both fully stripped, boxer briefs flung blindly to the floor, Poe’s knees were spread and Finn was crouched between them, breathing hard as he worked his hand over his own cock, bringing it swiftly to full attention before leaning in again and resuming kissing, biting, licking, sucking.  _

_ Their shafts rubbed together as Finn pressed in to leave another sharp bite on Poe’s neck, bearing down until he groaned and could swear he felt the bruise it would leave blooming under Finn’s teeth. It might have been overwhelming, too much, for some, but for Poe it was the release he didn’t know he’d been craving. Finally, someone else was in charge, and it felt  _ wonderful.  _ He ran his hands up and down Finn’s back in encouragement, but that seemed to be all that was required of him, and that was an arrangement he could more than live with. Finn seemed pent up, hungry, and Poe was content to be the main course. _

_ “Do you have, uh...something…” Poe managed to pant out, hand waving in circles as he searched for the words in a brain that seemed to have mostly stopped functioning. Finn nodded, crushing his mouth with a kiss before peeling away long enough to grab a jar from the floor beside the mattress. Poe was relieved, as he hadn’t exactly packed for this eventuality, and he hadn’t tried the spit-only method since flight school and couldn’t say he’d ever been a fan. _

_ “Vweilu nut oil,” Finn explained as he twisted the jar open. “I, uh, use it on my hair. Is that…?” _

_ “Perfect,” Poe interrupted, grasping his face between both hands for a kiss as he leaned close again. Finn paused a moment after to brush a stray curl off of Poe’s forehead and then kiss the spot where it had been, a gesture so tender after the passion of the last few minutes that a shiver ran up Poe’s spine. He closed his eyes briefly, savoring it. _

_ “Are you ready?” Finn hovered above him with one hand on the mattress at his side. Poe’s cock rested full and heavy on his stomach, Finn’s lying alongside it, and Poe took a moment to enjoy that. He rolled his hips, smiling at the surprise and approval that flickered over Finn’s face as they rubbed together. Then he nodded. _

_ Poe gasped as Finn’s oil-slicked finger slid inside him, his hands grasping hard onto the other man’s shoulders. It had been, well, some time since anything had been going on there, and the sensation was almost alien again. Good, but strange. He took a deep breath and nodded to Finn’s inquiring look, closing his eyes as another finger joined the first. Finn took his time, massaging as well as spreading the oil inside him, encouraging the muscles there to relax, and the strangeness faded. It was good, that was all. So good. _

_ “Finn…” That was all he managed to say—or moan, really. Finn chuckled softly, before his fingers, and his weight, withdrew. Poe’s eyes fluttered open, his face hot as he watched Finn kneel above him, briskly stroking his own cock with the oil now. Finn saw him watching and grinned, sharp and knowing, a look that made Poe’s cheeks burn and his dick a little harder. _

_ “You’ve been wanting this a long time, haven’t you?” _

_ “I...yeah. Yeah, I have been,” he breathed, almost mesmerized as Finn smiled at him, his hand still moving up and down.  _

_ “Tell me what you want, then.” There was a command in Finn’s voice. Nothing too harsh, just the right amount of confidence and swagger. If Poe hadn’t already been rock hard, that would have gotten him that way. He swallowed hard before giving the answer he knew Finn wanted. Why not? It was true. _

_ “I want you to fuck me.” _

_ Finn smiled in approval, and something in Poe melted. Oh, he’d been in love before that moment, but now? Now, he was utterly gone. Past the point of no return. Lost, and he didn’t mind a bit. “Please, please fuck me.” _

_ Finn wasted no time, nudging Poe’s legs open further and taking his hips firmly in hand to adjust his position as he shifted forward. Poe splayed his own thighs with a wantonness that might have embarrassed him if he’d been capable of rational thought, which at that moment had gone entirely out the window. He concentrated on just breathing as Finn took himself in hand, lining up with Poe’s entrance and then sliding smoothly forward. _

_ Poe gave a little cry, his back arching and shoulder blades pressed against the mattress as Finn pushed slowly inside him, just enough to slide past the ring of muscle. He waited there with iron control while Poe let himself relax, eyes glittering as he watched the pilot writhe under him. As soon as Poe gave a breathless nod he pushed further in, gliding slowly until he’d buried himself to the hilt.  _

_ A dim part of Poe was glad they were on an almost-deserted island and not, for once in his life, sharing thin walls with a few hundred other shipmates. There was no possible way he could control the noises coming out of him as Finn began to move slowly inside him, first with shallow little strokes, then longer, slow and purposeful, as his body opened in response. _

_ Finn seemed in no hurry, a contrast with his ravenous speed from earlier, clearly enjoying the way Poe whimpered and cried out under him. His hands shifted one at a time, grabbing Poe’s forearms and pinning them down against the mattress as his strokes turned stronger, faster, shoving the pilot down into the mattress with every pump of his hips. Poe grasped at the blankets under his fingers, bunching them up into his fists as Finn pounded away at him. When the younger man teasingly paused, drawing back so far he almost slid out of Poe entirely, the pilot wrapped his legs around the back of Finn’s thighs, pulling him in bodily against him and earning a warm, breathless laugh and an “Oh, so it’s like that?” _

_ Poe nodded, and Finn continued. _

_ They were both slick with sweat when Finn paused again. The younger General was inventive, his control impressive as he varied his pace and speed, now teasing slowly, now thrusting with a vigor that drove the breath out of Poe’s body. It had been some time before he’d come twice on one day, but Poe could feel that was a very good possibility now, his cock straining hotly between them. When Finn switched his grasp to Poe’s shoulders, bending lower over him as his angle changed to a frank rutting that sent up stars behind his eyes, Poe worked his hand in between them, rubbing at himself. _

_ When Finn realized what he was doing he shifted angle yet again, hitching Poe’s legs up and pressing down on the backs of his thighs as his own hips rolled with every thrust. Poe lasted only a little while into this, his hand pumping over himself, before he came with a cry so loud he startled himself, waves of darkness rolling over his vision. It seemed to last a long time, a crushingly intense vise grip of pleasure that went from his navel to his knees; that curled his toes and made the blood pound in his ears. _

_ And all through it, Finn kept going, fucking him with an urgency that made beads of sweat stand out on his forehead. He blinked as they ran into his eyes, but didn’t pause, riding Poe as he shook and gasped in the aftershocks of his own orgasm, every thrust like a lightning bolt right to his core. He’d felt nothing quite like it before, his whole awareness narrowing down to Finn’s cock filling him up, every ridge of it sawing over his nerves with a delicious intensity that danced on the edge of pain until, with a roar, Finn stuttered to a halt. _

_ His teeth gritted, Finn managed to thrust into him a few more times, even as Poe could feel the heat of him spilling out into his body. He wrapped his arms around Finn’s shoulders, murmuring encouragement as Finn ground their hips together, seeming determined to utterly spend himself inside the pilot. He was starting to soften by the time he finally withdrew, Poe’s thighs trembling with the effort to hold still under him as his skin dragged along every still-firing nerve. _

_ Finn rolled off and collapsed alongside him and they lay there, winded, for several long minutes before both turned their heads at the same moment to look at the other. They grinned in unison, and Poe finally laughed, then curled onto his side, not caring that they hadn’t cleaned up yet. It could wait. He snuggled down against Finn’s shoulder, brushing his lips over the other man’s cheek. _

_ “Well. That was worth the wait.” _

Poe kissed Finn’s cheek as the memories of the night before washed over him. He lifted a hand to his neck, testing one of the warm marks left there by Finn’s teeth. “You might need to be a little more discreet when we get back, or I’ll never hear the end of it.”

Finn’s eyebrows raised. “Do you really want me to go easier on you?”

“Mm...no.” Poe yawned through a chuckle, then nestled down again, curled on his side so he could watch Finn. He felt almost normal again, other than the clammy sweat still drying on his bare skin and the lingering unease at the back of his mind. He knew he’d be jumping at shadows all day, and the thought made him tired. Whatever happened to the version of Poe Dameron who could go through hell one day and shrug it off the next, happy to move on to the next adventure with a good ship around him and his droid at his side? Too many hells, he supposed. Too many, too deep, too quickly.

Finn watched him, one hand slowly stroking over his upper arm. “You gonna be okay while I go do...all of this with Rey?”

Poe immediately felt a pang of guilt, nodding. He’d forgotten, this was Finn’s big day. “I’ll be fine. You need to head out soon?”

Finn glanced out the window at the lightening sky, then leaned and reached for his datapad where it rested against the wall near the mattress. “Pretty soon. We’ve got time for breakfast.”

“You nervous?” Poe admittedly was curious. Despite being somewhat leery of the Force after his experiences with it, there was definitely something intriguing about knowing Finn could walk into that old, stone temple and have some kind of vision that could guide the rest of his life. The pilot just had to hope the Force wouldn’t tell Finn he was bad news, or remind him that Jedi shunned attachments, or something. 

That wouldn’t happen, right?

“Yeah. Kinda,” Finn admitted in a low voice, after a second’s hesitation. “What if I don’t see anything?”

That hadn't occurred to Poe. “Huh. Well...I guess the Force is kinda mysterious, right? Maybe it’d just mean it wasn’t the right time.” Not that he knew what he was talking about. He liked flying because ships responded in predictable ways. You hit the throttle, the ship speeds up. You move the yoke, it turns. Simple. He knew where he was, with a ship. Even when they broke, they didn’t break because the time wasn’t right or the universe hadn’t aligned or something. 

“Yeah,” Finn sighed, pushing to his feet. “Or maybe it’d mean I’m a fraud who should go back to sweeping floors.”

“Finn, buddy...no. I saw you making stuff float! You’re gonna do great. You’ll…” Poe floundered, pushing up onto his elbows to watch as Finn found a towel and wrapped it around his waist, a smile starting to pull at the corner of his mouth. “You’ll have the best vision ever. You’ll see.”

“Hmm. Maybe.”

“No, look.” Poe sat up fully, the blankets puddling in his lap. It was hard to muster gravitas while mostly nude and covered in hickies, but he had a lot of practice giving pep talks. “You know why I always say I’m the best pilot in the galaxy?”

“Because you are?” 

“Flattery will get you _ everywhere. _ No, I mean...I might be, who knows? I know I’m good, but so is Rey, Karé outflies me in maneuvers sometimes, there was Han Solo and Luke Skywalker. Hell, Kylo Ren, he was damn good.” His stomach always clenched a little when he said the name, but he ignored it, plowing on. “No, I know I’m  _ one of _ the best, sure. But I say it because if I say it, I believe it more, and if I believe it, it means I don’t doubt myself when I have to make a decision in an instant that could get me killed if I choose wrong. It means I don’t hesitate. Not out there.” 

He gestured toward the roof and the sky beyond, then took a deep breath, Finn watching him intently. “Out there, I’m the best pilot in the galaxy, which means I can always trust my gut. No questions. And you? You are the best...Jedi student…”

“Apprentice?” There was a laugh in Finn’s voice, but he kept a straight face as Poe groped for the word.

“Apprentice! The best Jedi Apprentice in the galaxy.” Poe ended on a note of triumph, smacking his fist into the palm of his other hand for emphasis. Finn did laugh then.

“Poe, I’m the  _ only _ Jedi Apprentice in the galaxy.”

“See, that means you’re  _ definitely _ the best one!” Poe grinned up at him, hoping he hadn’t laid it on too thick.

“Okay, okay. Look…” Finn bent close to him, one hand sliding under his chin to lift it for a kiss. “I’m gonna get a nice, incredibly cold shower and grab us something to eat.”

“Good idea. Everything looks better after food.” Poe smiled up at Finn. “Seriously, buddy. This’ll be a piece of cake. You’ve already won a war, how hard can a little vision be?”

“Uh-huh. We’ll see. And Poe…” Finn paused at the door, glancing back. “You’re gonna have to stop calling me buddy.”

“How about pal?”

“Also a no.”

“Huh. I’ll give it some thought. Workshop some ideas.” Finn snorted as he left, and Poe grinned to himself before starting to get to his feet. Still tired, maybe a little sore in the best way after the night he’d had, but he’d have to deal with the day sooner or later. And finally clean up after those porgs. And work out.

By the time Finn was halfway up the ancient, unevenly carved stairs that led all the way to the highest peak of the island and the first Jedi temple at its apex, he was regretting having eaten breakfast at all. He liked staying in shape, had always spent at least an hour a day working on his fitness even since leaving the First Order’s military discipline, but these stairs... _ whew.  _ He paused at the landing that marked the halfway point, turning with his hands on his hips to breathe deeply and look out to the sea, his thighs and calves burning. 

He’d hated to leave Poe alone after the frightening incident that morning, but the pilot had waved him off with an airy remark about needing to clean anyway, and Finn hadn’t been able to get him to talk any more. Once Poe had made his mind up that he wanted to be done with a subject, Finn had realized, he was  _ done,  _ and further attempts to engage him would be met with friendly, charming banter and very little else. He’d have to work on that.

It was still strange and new to have those thoughts, thoughts about a future spent together. He wasn’t one to spend much time daydreaming—it wasn’t a trait that was encouraged where he had grown up—and so he hadn’t really begun to map out what the future might hold for him with Poe until it was suddenly happening. Finn didn’t love that feeling, of not knowing what to expect. That hadn’t been something he’d experienced much of, growing up under iron discipline under one military and then straight into another, albeit less formal. There were so many things to figure out still, and added to the uncertainty of what becoming a Jedi held...well, he was already feeling anxious about it all. What he wanted was answers, but he seemed to keep coming up with more questions instead.

But Poe...well, he was an answer in himself. Finn smiled reflexively, small and private, when he thought of the pilot’s upturned face and the grin with which he’d declared Finn the “best Jedi Apprentice in the galaxy,” with perfect sincerity. Poe could be frustrating, maddening even, but only because he refused to take himself and his safety as seriously as Finn did. 

Not that Finn wanted to change him, because Poe’s ridiculous optimism and total disregard for his own personal well-being were at the core of who he was. And Finn loved Poe as he was. 

Love. There was a word he could think, even if he couldn’t say it out loud just yet. But he supposed that’s what it was, when he thought of Poe’s easy grin and his chest tightened. What else would you call it, that thing where any time Poe made a bad joke, or ran his fingers through his hair until it was hopelessly rumpled when he was frustrated, or nibbled at his lower lip when he was thoughtful, Finn wanted to grab him by the chin and kiss him breathless? 

Not that he was about to admit it just yet. It felt too soon. It wasn’t sudden, not exactly—more like he’d been teetering on the edge of falling in love for a long time now, and that first kiss had been the push he’d needed. Although maybe that metaphor was in bad taste, given the circumstances of said kiss. 

He’d never been in love before, not really. The First Order hadn’t been a place where it was safe to get too attached to anyone. He’d wondered what it would feel like, when it happened. He’d wondered if he’d even know. As it turned out, it was as easy as breathing.

As easy as breathing when he wasn’t making his way up a giant stone staircase, anyway. Shaking his head, he turned back to his task, chest burning by the time he made it to the top. Rey was waiting for him there, seated cross legged on a boulder near the doorway of the temple, her hands resting loosely on her knees and her eyes closed. She spoke without opening them.

“You’re late.”

“And you’re spooky.” Finn plopped onto a rock near hers, wiping his arm over his sweating brow. Rey wasn’t sweating—he had to assume she’d come up earlier to meditate or something. “Why’d they have to put the temple at the top of a mountain like this? Why not on some nice tropical beach or something? Or somewhere with an elevator?”

“I suppose they thought knowledge was worth some trouble. Or they were just being difficult.” She did open her eyes then, and gave him a smile as she began to unfold her legs. “You had a good night.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. Finn felt his face heat, but he smiled despite himself.

“Yeah, you know...pretty good.” An incredible understatement. He felt Poe’s hands gripping onto his shoulders, Poe’s breath at his ear, Poe’s thighs around his waist just at the mention, and hastily repressed that thought. 

“And a rough morning.” Finn’s smile died then, and he nodded. Rey was matter-of-fact, but sympathetic. “Is Poe doing all right now?”

“I think so. Just...another nightmare. He was okay by the time I left, just...he was shaken up.”

“And you?” Rey’s eyebrows lifted as she stood, dusting off the seat of her pants and tunic top. “Are you shaken up?”

As usual, the Jedi was perceptive, Finn realized. He let out a long breath as he considered the question, then nodded. “Kinda freaked me out, yeah. I mean, I never saw it happen like that before. He was just...somewhere else.” And he’d pushed Finn, though he hadn’t known who he was shoving. Finn didn’t want to tell Rey about that, but it still played on his mind. It hadn’t really hurt; Poe had still been half-asleep and his aim had been off-center. But it had reminded him that he’d been part of the organization that had done this to Poe, and to so many others, in the first place. One of the enemy. 

Rey stretched, her face knit in thoughtfulness as she linked her fingers together and then pressed her palms toward the sky. Then she let out a long sigh, releasing her arms and rolling her shoulders back. When she spoke, her voice was low and honest, stripped to the bone. “What you saw, what you felt, from Poe? That pain, that fear...that is what the Dark Side is capable of inflicting. Before we go further, I need you to understand that... _ that  _ is what we risk becoming, whenever we open ourselves up to the Force.”

“How do we avoid it?” There was a knot at the pit of his stomach as he asked.

“I don’t know.” She smiled then, though her eyes held something else. Sadness, maybe. “I’ll let you know if I ever figure that out for certain.”

Finn nodded slowly. He had never felt the pull of the Dark Side himself—or not that he knew of. He’d seen it in action up close and personal over the years, but despite his upbringing, or maybe because of it, had never felt tempted. He knew too well what cruelty looked like, and what anger could do. But knowing it was something Rey had had to wrestle with gave him pause. If even Rey could be tempted, had to struggle, was he ready for this?

If even Han Solo and Leia Organa’s child could fall to the Dark Side, couldn’t anyone?

But it was only a moment of hesitation. In his core, he felt like if he could leave the First Order after having been raised to be its killing machine, turn his back on everything they’d taught and take the hard way out, he could resist the Dark Side too. It would only be another choice he’d make, in his path from violence into peace. Finn swallowed once, nodded, and rose.

“I’m ready.” And as he said it, he felt sure that he was. 

Rey smiled, and held out her hand. In it was the slim, silver hilt of a lightsaber, one he’d never seen before. He blinked at it, then looked questioningly back to Rey’s face. Her smile broadened into a grin.

“I know you’re ready.” The smile faded then, the hilt still extended toward him. “And you might need this inside there. Or you might not. It’s a bit complicated. I know I said after, but…”

He hesitated a second, but then he took the hilt, surprised by how heavy it was in his hand. It felt good, solid, just the right size for his hand to curl around. “Did you make this?”

“Well, you can’t exactly place an order for one, can you?” 

“I guess not...right?” Taking a step back, he flicked his thumb over the ignition switch, but still took in a startled breath when the blade fired into life, bright green and humming its crackling song. 

“No. The Kyber crystals needed are too rare, the plans are only written in Jedi texts, and...really, you need to be Force-sensitive to wield it well. You’ll make your own, someday, and then this one will pass on to the next student. But for now...it’s yours.” Rey watched him, a smile playing at the corners of her lips as he gave it a few experimental swings, the chartreuse blade whining as it sliced through the air.

He finally powered the saber down and turned back to her with a triumphant, beaming smile, his cheeks aching with the strength of it. “All right. I’m ready to kick some Jedi vision butt.”

“That’s the spirit,” Rey laughed as they turned, together, for the temple entrance. They paused at the threshold when she placed a warning hand at Finn’s elbow. He turned to face her, eyebrows raised questioningly. 

“Whatever you may see in there…it’s not quite real, but it’s real enough. Real enough to hurt, maybe kill...I think.” A smile quirked her lips to one side after that. “I’ve never quite known. But…”

“I know,” Finn interrupted, then softened it with a smile. “I will. I’ll just...believe in it and follow the Force.”

“Exactly. And…” Rey hesitated, then stepped aside, her face gone serious. “May the Force be with you, Finn.”

It was only once he’d stepped inside the temple, leaving Rey at the slanted cave entrance, that Finn realized he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do. Go into the temple, check. He’d managed that part. What came next? He realized he was holding the lightsaber hilt tightly in both hands, and spent a moment fastening it to his belt with the magnetic clip he found attached to the base. At least he’d be ready for anything.

When Finn looked up again, he was taken aback by how large and empty the stone room he stood in was. Craning his neck, he peered up at the faraway, craggy ceiling, the temple having clearly been carved out and added onto a natural cave at the island’s peak. His footsteps echoed as he wandered a few more steps in, turning to take it all in. It was eerily silent in there, the wind and the crash of the ocean somehow muted even though they were just beyond the open doorway where he’d left Rey.

There wasn’t much to see, beyond a handful of dark hallways that led off of the main room, and the shallow pool that glittered in the center of it all. It was all swept spotless, presumably at the hands of the Caretakers, and the stone under his boots was worn smooth by the feet of generations. He’d never been somewhere that felt so ancient. It was an unusual feeling, for someone who’d spent his life in starships and new-built barracks. Trailing his hand along the wall, he began to circle the room with measured steps, trying to empty his mind and invite in the Force.

As he passed his first hallway he peered down it, seeing nothing but the blind turn of the stone wall blocking his view and fading into velvet black. But there was something, some nearly inaudible murmur of sound, just at the edge of his awareness as he turned his head away again. He looked back, startled, but it was gone. Feeling foolish, he stood still for a moment, then continued on his way.

It was several steps before he realized the noise was back, just barely noticeable. It was almost like the murmur of the ocean, but it wasn’t, he realized. It was voices, overlapping and hushed. He couldn’t make out what they were saying, and whenever he tried, they’d fade away again. It should have been frightening, but it wasn’t quite. They didn’t sound sinister. They sounded...almost encouraging. Welcoming.

How many Jedi had walked these rooms, thousands of years ago? He knew from Rey’s teachings that there had been some ten thousand of them or so before Palpatine had had most of them executed in his rise to power. How many more would there have been at the height of their power? How many before then? And how many had come right here, to Ahch-To, and walked where he was walking now?

Without realizing it, Finn found he had walked away from the walls and to the edge of the round, simple reflecting pool that was the focus of the otherwise empty room. He stared down into it, and his own face looked back up at him. Alone. He’d always been alone, hadn’t he? Oh, he’d been surrounded by other soldiers, but there was no real warmth there. No family. No roots. He didn’t even know what planet he’d come from, or the names of his parents. The susurrus of voices stilled as he considered himself.

Finn eased into a crouch to look closer, one hand touching the worn stone floor for balance. There were lines carved there, who knew how many hundreds or thousands of years before, simple paths that led to the pool at their center. He knew, somehow, that Jedi had walked those paths in meditation. Maybe he needed to do the same, to put his feet on those same paths. The murmur of voices returned, gentle, encouraging. He could almost pick out words, if he could just concentrate…

He closed his eyes, emptying his mind of thoughts. That was getting so much easier to do now, with practice. Almost immediately the voices were louder, and every now and again a word would come through clearly. Just one, and if he tried to focus on them, they’d slip away again. 

_ Peace… _

_...fear… _

_...welcome… _

**_...Finn._ **

His name was louder than the rest, as if all the innumerable voices had come together to speak it. His eyes snapped open, and in the pool below him he saw, not his face, but Poe’s. It was bruised and bloodied like it had been the first time Finn had met him, his lip split and his eyes large and dark with fear. As Finn cried out and reached toward him, he fell backwards as if tumbling down a dark pit, reaching out for Finn’s hand. Forgetting it was just a shallow pool, just a reflection, Finn grabbed after him, catching his fingers only to feel them slip through his own. And just like that he was falling too, sliding through the surface of the pool and into darkness, Poe dwindling from sight in front of him as he tumbled.

Finn managed to land on his feet, his head spinning as he pushed up to a stand, looking wildly around. Poe was nowhere to be seen, and he’d landed in what seemed to be a wide, industrial hallway, lit with a blue-tinted gloom he couldn’t quite place. “Poe? Poe!” There was nothing but a flat wall behind him and the corridor ahead of him. Hardly pausing to think, he staggered forward into a run.

When he burst into a juncture, several corridors leading off of it, he pulled up short, at a loss. There was still no sign of Poe, or of anyone else. Finn took a moment to catch his breath as he thought fast. This was the Force’s doing. He’d have to ask the Force for guidance, then. He squared his shoulders and closed his eyes, reaching out with that extra sense he didn’t quite know how to describe, but was beginning to know how to use. Every time it was a little easier, the moment where everything clicked into focus coming a little faster. It could feel like stepping into a warm bath, or like plunging into a cold ocean. This time it was more like an icy river, driving the breath from his lungs as its current pulled him to the corridor to his right with a near-physical intensity. He began to run without consciously choosing it, arms pumping and knees lifting high.

As soon as he crossed the threshold into the new corridor, a siren began to blare, and the lights strobed red and white. Finn skidded to a halt and tried to take a step back, reaching for his lightsaber, only to find a pair of massive steel doors sliding swiftly closed behind him. They shut with a clang that made him flinch, and he uselessly slapped a hand against them before turning his focus back on the hallway before him. It was short, ending at a blank, riveted metal wall of a T-juncture some 50 feet away. 

Belatedly, he realized that under the sirens, he could hear something else. Footsteps. Boots, military tread and performing an even, quick march in unison. Pressing himself against the wall in the direction he thought they were coming from, to buy himself a few seconds of invisibility, he listened hard. At least five pairs of feet, maybe six, and then one pair not in step with the others after all. That person was stumbling, dragging their feet, or being dragged. A prisoner? Prisoner of who? Where the hell was he?

The footsteps grew louder and closer as Finn hugged the wall behind him, listening as sweat beaded on his forehead. Rey had been right—this might not be real, but it sure felt that way. He could feel a line of rivets under his hand, and a drop of sweat trickling down the small of his back. He could hear the ragged breaths of the prisoner now, almost to the juncture now.

He knew those breaths.

Finn held stock still as a column of stormtroopers marched past, none of them bothering to glance down the corridor as they passed. If they had, they would have spotted him quickly, but he sent out a silent, general prayer of thanks for the limited peripheral vision those damn helmets allowed. Six of them, just as he’d estimated. And dragged between them, his wrists cuffed behind him in a set of magnetic binders and his head hanging low, was Poe.

Finn didn’t pause to think. The lightsaber seemed to appear in his hand of its own accord, and all stealth went out the window as it hummed to life. Poe’s head jerked up at the sound, and he craned his neck to look. “Get away from him,” Finn barked, as the troopers swiveled toward him in one practiced motion, blasters shouldered by all except the one still holding Poe. That one began to swiftly chivvy the pilot along, shoving him with one hand while jerking back on the binders with the other. His squadmates fanned out to block Finn from following, and opened fire.

With a roar, Finn found himself batting away blaster bolts with the lightsaber with the same newly found ease with which he’d hit the rocks Poe and Rey had thrown at him the other day. They seemed to move slowly, bright flashes in the Force milliseconds before they appeared to his eyes, so that he was always a little ahead of the shooters. One was felled almost immediately by a deflected bolt, and Finn used his falling body as a shield, moving along in its wake to close the gap between him and the rest of the troopers.

This felt good, the blood rushing in his veins as he lifted the lightsaber in a humming arc, slicing the blaster rifle of the closest trooper right out of his hands. The remaining charge bank on the rifle exploded in a shower of sparks in the man’s hands, and he dropped it with a sharp scream, staggering away. Finn helped tumble him along with a boot to the back. This felt easy. It felt right. 

“Finn, run!” Poe’s scream came from down the hallway, where he’d been able to twist away from his captor far enough to look back over his shoulder. “It’s—” he was cut off when the stormtrooper marching him along cuffed him roughly across his mouth, then doubled his pace. They were getting too far away, Finn had to finish this. And he had no intention of running.

One trooper broke and ran, likely to summon reinforcements. Finn couldn’t afford to worry about that one, with the remaining two close by and firing. He was on the closest one in seconds, the lightsaber cutting through armor with little difficulty. Rage and joy sang through him in equal measure as the trooper dropped quickly, the stench of melted plastic and burned skin searing itself into his nostrils. 

The final trooper’s nerve finally failed, and he turned and bolted after firing off one last volley. Finn deflected the haphazard shots easily, before kicking a fallen blaster off the ground and into his waiting spare hand with a flick of his foot and a nudge from the Force. Sighting coolly along the rifle with a kind of ease he hadn’t felt even in his own trooper days, when he’d been on the top of the shooting range rankings nearly every week, he squeezed off a pair of shots. One would have been enough. The last trooper fell in a tangle of his own limbs, shot in the vulnerable armor joint between shoulder and neck. 

Finn tossed aside the rifle then, not wanting to be weighed down with two weapons, and sprinted after Poe and his escort, the sirens still bleating their warning. The pair had disappeared around a corner up ahead, and Finn felt a shot of fear, wondering if he’d be able to tell which way to go, or if they’d wind up losing him after all.

He needn’t have worried, as it turned out. As he charged around the corner, there was Poe, dead ahead some 100 feet or so, struggling with his captor. He’d gotten loose from the man’s grasp, but was still cuffed, and the trooper reached for the remote at his waist. Poe went rigid with pain, trembling as a strong shock went through him from the cuffs. Finn knew those cuffs, knew what the button meant, and he cursed as he ran, seeming to make ground far too slowly as Poe swayed and stumbled, and was caught easily again.

Poe looked up blearily as he drew closer, then seemed to shake himself out of his daze with a frantic shout. “Finn, no!” The stormtrooper gave him a warning shove, then yanked back on the binders to nearly jerk him off his feet. He persisted anyway, finally finishing his warning from earlier. “It’s a trap!”

No sooner did Poe’s words register than the sirens abruptly silenced and a door Finn hadn’t yet noticed in the side of the corridor slid open, disgorging a new platoon of some ten or so troopers, led by a familiar figure, which drew Finn to a halt. The leader was tall, its armor made of reflective silver chrome that flashed red every time the lights changed, with a red cape billowing from its shoulders.

Phasma.

“You’re dead,” Finn muttered aloud, both as a reminder to himself and, at some level, as a promise. He adjusted his grip on the lightsaber, holding it in both hands now as he squared off against that hated figure. The troopers arrayed behind her raised their rifles, but Finn was past worrying about that. He had Poe to save, and Phasma to defeat. Again. 

Captain Phasma said nothing, merely taking her baton from her waist and flicking it out to telescope it into a staff, as she had the last time they’d faced off. There was an arrogant tilt to her head as she gestured for the troopers behind her to stand down. If she wanted this fight, he was more than happy to give it to her. 

They closed on each other with a hiss of lightsaber against metal. The staff must have been made of beskar or phrik, or some other metal that could resist the strike of a lightsaber, because it rebounded with a burst of sparks. Finn disengaged and brought his blade up in a whirl of green light, swinging for the tall figure’s neck only to be rebuffed again. 

Still, Phasma said nothing. No taunts about his performance as a trooper under her, no sneering about rebel scum, nothing. “You lose your tongue when you fell down that hole?” Finn shouted as he came around for another attempt, flicked away by a twist of the staff. Still no answer. Finn couldn’t risk taking the time to look around her to see how Poe was faring, but at least he wasn’t hearing any screams. He sent out a quick prayer to the Force to protect the pilot until he could get to him.

The two were almost evenly matched, trading blocked blows as they paced a circle around each other, the still flashing red lights turning the captain’s armor crimson every few seconds. Finn was the first one to make contact, slicing into one armored arm. Even then Phasma didn’t scream, though she did back away a step, Finn following relentlessly. Seconds later the staff clipped his shoulder, sending him stumbling to the side. He shoved off against the wall with one hand to regain his balance and push himself back into the fray. 

He knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, that a Jedi should not feel as much fury as he did now, but the anger also felt good. It felt powerful, a frisson of heat that flowed into his arms and seemed to tell him where to strike. Now, dodging the staff’s parry and flicking into the armor joint between thigh and knee. Now, taking advantage of Phasma’s flinch away to slash at her shoulder, the green light of the saber washing over the chrome. Now, kicking the staff out of her hands to clang on the metal floor. Now, coming toward her even as she put up her hands in surrender, or maybe to call forward the troopers behind her to take over the fight. He wasn’t about to wait to find out. He slashed at her torso once, twice, sparks flying and metal screaming its protest as she fell. 

The stormtroopers raised their rifles then, but Finn was desperate to see his former tormentor’s face before he finished this once and for all. In every rare happy moment from his childhood, there had been Phasma waiting for a slip-up, waiting to test him, waiting to take it away. Every time he’d been able to make a friend she’d put an end to it, turned them all against him to test his mettle as a leader. Every time he’d failed, she’d ground it into his face, to “make him stronger.” Now it was his turn, and he wanted so badly to see her expression this time, when she knew she’d lost. To him, to FN-2187, her greatest failure. He planted one boot on her smoking chest and kicked at the bottom of the helmet with the other, sending it flying as he leveled the lightsaber at her neck.

The face revealed below, though, wasn’t Phasma’s. Staring up at him from the ground was his own face, eyes afraid but defiant. His hair was shorter, back to its military buzz, and there was a scar over one eye, but it was him. 

It was him. Captain FN-2187. 

Almost as soon as he’d realized that, he looked up to notice that the troopers around him were lowering their rifles, then setting them on the floor. One by one, they took off their helmets, watching him solemnly. There was FN-2003, Slip, who’d always done poorly in simulations and had died in his arms on Jakku. There was Marialew, a First Order transport pilot who hadn’t turned him in when she’d caught him saving some mynocks he was supposed to be clearing out of a tunnel. There was FN-2199 and FN-2000—Nines and Zeroes, his closest squadmates, at least until Nines had tried to kill him on Takodana in retribution for leaving. 

Finn turned slowly, looking at all of them, his lightsaber staying close to his enemy’s—his own—neck. There was Jannah, her hair springing out of her helmet as she removed it to watch him steadily. There was Forten, and other members of Company 77, Jannah’s former stormtroopers who they’d found on Kef Bir. And then, standing with them, there was Poe, his face still bloodied and hands still locked behind his back, but watching him with that same gravity. It was Poe who finally broke the silence.

“I told you it was a trap.”

Stunned, Finn finally switched off his lightsaber and stumbled back from his fallen self. The other Finn rose after a moment, the helmet tucked under his arm and his armor still smoking from the deep slashes across the chest. Still wordless, he met Finn’s eyes. Across years, maybe across universes, Finn of the Resistance and the FN-2187 he might have become had Poe Dameron never been captured shared a small, private nod of acknowledgement. Then Captain FN-2187 turned and, with a gesture, directed a trooper to release Poe’s hands. 

Shaking now with the knowledge of what he’d almost done, who he’d almost killed in his rage and fear, Finn rushed toward Poe, only to find himself running out of a rock-hewn tunnel and back into the main reflecting pool hall of the first Jedi temple on Ahch-To. He pulled up short, bewildered, then looked behind himself. Nothing. All around the cavernous room. Nothing.

Finn was alone. But the lightsaber hilt in his hand was still warm. 


End file.
